Circle Unbroken
by WolFang1011
Summary: Chaos ensues as the lives of a handful of individuals begin to intersect in strange ways. Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls is the intellectual property of Bethesda Softworks. I own nothing. Beta: ClaireDuhBear
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Before the story proper, I'd like to thank a few people. It's like a short list of acknowledgements, so feel free to skip this part.**

**To ClaireDuhBear, for being an amazing Beta and putting up with all my crazyness while retaining her sanity, more or less. Your excited feedback means a lot to me.**

**To PhantomX0990, for being the first one to tell me to keep writing and showing interest in this idea. I hope you return to the writing scene soon, Phan. You are sorely missed.**

**To Zero121, for making me think, "Hey, I can write one too," with his own story. First story I ever read on this site, actually.**

**To El Stormo, for the words, "You write stories, don't you? So you're an author, no matter how successful you are." Helped when I had little faith in my writing skills while writing this chapter. I still don't have much faith, to be honest, but it's not as bad as it once was. Thank you, Coach.**

**All great authors by their right, these people. If you happen to read this author's note, give their stories a shot. I guarantee you won't be disappointed.**

**And so without further ado…**

**Chapter 1**

_"Cast aside the illusion that there is a beginning and end to the story. The story has no beginning. And it has no end. All there is, is a performance of people connecting, living, influencing each other, and departing."_

**Kai**

He disliked being summoned. It made him feel like he was a dog on a leash, wagging his tail while waiting for his master's orders.

For him, those days were long gone. Yet he still had to put up with their crap. Was he being nice, or was he just gullible? What was the difference between the two, anyway? It was a fuzzy line, at best.

"As you can imagine, the situation has gotten out of hand," Falk Firebeard continued his speech as he paced the room with his arms firmly behind his back.

He knew where this was going, knew all too well.

"Twenty-one people in ten months; this cannot and must not be allowed to continue."

"Why pick me?" he asked, curious. "There are better and more skilled hunters out there. Why not commission them?"

"You're the only one we can trust completely," Falk replied.

What that statement actually meant was that since he was the biggest sucker they had at their disposal _and_ because he was expendable, they had no reason to look any further. Knowing all this, he wondered why he still felt the need to help this man out. Whatever he did, he never got any recognition, fame, or acknowledgement. Not that he cared about such things. He had grown up without them and was perfectly content with being who he was now. But there were times when he wondered what it would have been like had he stuck with the Legion. He could've had everything that he had ever wanted; he wasn't cut out to be a dog of the military though, and he knew it. He wanted to do what he felt like doing, not being handed assignments by some stuck up steward who thought he was better than the rest. There was always the next assignment, after the big fat coin purse of course.

All he had to do was say 'no'. How hard could it be?

"I'll do it," he said with a sigh as his mind screamed at him to take back his words and say otherwise.

But words once spoken cannot be taken back. He would know.

"Excellent!" Falk positively beamed at him. "Right, so you'll leave-"

"Wait up, mate." Kai held up his hand, effectively shutting up the other man. "Give me details. I can't work with just a few incoherent words coming from a steward who paces around like he's suffering from constipation."

Ignoring the remark and still keeping a straight face, Falk cleared his throat before continuing, "As I was saying, you'll head to Mistveil Keep. Maven Black-Briar has everything you need neatly piled up for your perusal."

Riften, huh? He saw that one coming, too.

"If you're so chummy with Maven, couldn't you just have her deliver the documents here? It'll take time to go to Riften, read all the stuff and then backtrack all the way to Ivarstead." Kai said as his right hand pinky dug into his ear. "If the situation is as dire as you say, time is of essence, no?"

The utter look of irritation and disgust Falk sent his way as he pulled out his finger and flicked away the ear wax greatly satisfied him for some reason.

"It is a risk we are willing to take." Falk answered, his voice measured. "Besides, was it not you who used to say that knowledge is the greatest weapon a soldier can hope to possess? I thought you would be eager to know all you can about your target, Kai."

He resisted the urge to punch Falk's face in right then and there.

"That's your problem, Falk."

The redhead blinked. "I have a problem? What problem?"

"I'll tell ya later," Kai yawned. "Anyway, knowledge about your enemy only helps when you're strategizing to take targets out. It does shit in the wild when you're hunting man eating animals. All you can rely on is your skill and sheer dumb luck."

"Uh-huh, I'll take your word for it. Anyway, you're taking this job, correct?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll do it. Kill a man eating sabre cat, right? Sounds like a bundle of fun." Kai replied, running a hand through his jet black hair. "When do you want me to leave?"

"Tomorrow. I'll have a coach ready for you."

"Fine by me. Is that all?"

"That is all."

Nodding curtly, Kai spun on his heel and proceeded to walk out of the parlor when Falk stopped him.

"There is… another thing that I have to say."

"Then I'd advise you to say it," Kai said and glanced at Falk over his shoulder.

"This is probably asking too much after what you did in Wolfskull cave and later against Potema, but-"

"If this is about the Thane position, you can save it, Falk. I want no part of it."

"But why not?" Falk pressed, "You'll be able to walk with pride and with your head held up. Even the Legionnaires will honor and respect you."

"Look mate, I'll be honest with you." Kai wheeled around and faced Falk. "I don't give a skeever's ass about what the blasted barnacle clusters have to say about me. They can take all their superiority complexes and stick it up their asses for all I care. And besides," he stopped for a breath, "Being a Thane is too much work and I don't get paid enough as is. So yes, I refuse."

Both men stared at the other as a wave of silence fell over them.

"By your leave, Falk," Kai said and turned his back on Falk before marching out of the parlor and the Blue Palace.

* * *

"Come, eat at Little Elsweyr! We serve fish. It's good, it's cheap and you won't drop dead after eating it, no matter what other people have to say! Long time no see, mister; want fish?"

Amused, Kai watched as the Imperial man ran away from the Orc, who simply resumed trying to draw in customers for the restaurant.

"Ah, Captain! Long time no see. Want fish? Fish good. Fish very good; you'll like it. I'll give you a discount."

"Not today, Ghorbash. I'm broke," Kai refused politely. "Once I get a job and some cash, I'll definitely come; unless it's free today."

The Orc violently shook his head. "No way! If I give away free fish, I'll drown in the seaweed of Skyrim tundra!"

Chuckling, Kai patted his shoulder. "That's not exactly seaweed, but it sure looks the part. Anyway, is Omiq in?"

Ghorbash nodded, "Yes, he's in. Omiq's cooking fish. Go right in."

"Thanks, mate. You keep at it; you'll get customers… one day." Kai muttered the last part as he opened the door of the restaurant and walked in. as he closed the door, however, he heard the Orc's voice calling out to potential customers, "Come, eat at Little Elsweyr. It good, it cheap! We serve fish, not human. Not even on half price day!"

"And you wonder why you don't get enough customers," Kai grinned and occupied a bar stool.

"At least Ghorbash tries. That's what matters, nya," Omiq's voice called from the back. "This one will be out in a minute. Omiq wishes Kai to make himself at home, nya."

Snorting, Kai looked around the place. As usual, it was completely devoid of any customers. Ten tables, each with four tables, lined the wall.

"Make myself at home he says… this was my home to begin with…"

Indeed, this was his home, a gift from Elisif upon successfully thwarting Potema's resurrection. Once known as Proudspire Manor, the building was now a restaurant called 'Little Elsweyr' run by Omiq, a crafty Khajiit and Ghorbash, a scary looking Orc who, not so surprisingly, scared everybody away.

Kai had never been a person to be confined by walls. He preferred the outdoors, the wilderness… and shivering to sleep in a bedroll…

"This one thinks that Kai likes what he sees, nya."

Facing the Khajiit, Kai chuckled. "I'll hand it to you; you two have done a bloody good job with this… whatever it is."

The Khajiit laughed before lowering himself into a seat across Kai, "Yes, it does look nice. This floor is the main restaurant and kitchen. The top floor serves as living quarters, nya. This one has even saved a bed Kai. The basement serves as a temple; this one worships Arkay while Ghorbash can worship Malacath, nya."

"Daedra worship is against the law, you know."

"So, nya?" the Khajiit raised an eyebrow.

Kai couldn't help but laugh at that. "Well, I'm glad you could put it to use."

"This one is happy as well. Does Kai want something to eat, nya? Fried fish and curry with a loaf of bread, perhaps? Cyrodiilic spadetail is today's specialty, nya."

"I'll pass, Omiq. I just came to ask you a few things."

It was at this moment that the door opened and a group of four men entered, talking loudly amongst themselves and occupied a table in the corner. They were clad in leather armor, steel swords and axes hanging at the waist. One of them even had a longbow and a quiver of steel arrows on his back.

"Blasted Nord mercenaries, nya…" Kai heard Omiq mutter under his breath, "This one will be back after taking their order."

As Omiq busied himself with the task, Kai couldn't help but wonder how in the blue blazes Ghorbash managed to convince the party of mercenaries to dine at the place.

"Bring us the best mead you've got, cat!"

Ah. So that's what they were after.

"No Cyrodiilic spadetail, then?" Kai smirked as Omiq shrugged and disappeared into the kitchen before emerging with four bottles of mead.

"And now this one is at Kai's service, nya." Omiq said as he returned to his former position opposite Kai.

"Drop the accent. I know you can speak normally," Kai said, placing his elbows on the counter and supporting his chin on his palms, "It's difficult to keep up with it."

"But-"

"As your former superior, I hereby order you."

"Yes, Captain. Your wish is my command." Omiq said slyly, "So, what did you want to know, nya?"

"Heard of the man eating sabre cat of Ivarstead?"

The Khajiit grinned ear to ear. "Oh, so that's what Falk has asked you to do, is it, nya?"

"You nailed it." Kai chuckled, "How do you know everything?"

"I don't know everything," Omiq answered, glancing at the bunch of Nords laughing loudly among themselves. "I just know what I know, nya."

"Sure, I believe ya." Kai replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "So, what of this man eater?"

"That information will cost you twenty Septims, nya."

Grunting, Kai said, "You're going to charge me?"

"Standard rates apply to all, irrespective of whether I know the client or not, nya. And besides," Omiq interlaced his fingers and rested his chin atop them and leaned forward on his elbows, "You wouldn't want me to ruin the surprise, now would you, Captain, nya?"

He sighed. "It would've saved me the trip to Riften, that's all."

"You're going to Riften? That's your hometown, right, nya?"

"Uh-huh."

"I, for one, thought you'd be thrilled, nya."

"I am. Can't you see? I'm jumping with joy at the prospect," Kai deadpanned.

Omiq opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it and closed it, instead moving his head slightly to the right as an empty mead bottle came sailing through the air. "Rowdy bunch, eh, nya?"

Kai craned his neck and surveyed the group. The burly leader-looking fellow was busy telling the others a clearly exaggerated account of how he took down two Trolls with nothing but his axe. "Yeah, and they're pissing me off."

"Temper, Captain." Omiq chuckled. "One must always keep one's temper, nya."

"It's hard Omiq. I haven't been in a brawl in ages," he complained. "I'm itching for a fight!"

"Falk said something he shouldn't have, didn't he, nya?"

Kai raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to retort but his voice was drowned by the four Nords bellowing simultaneously for more mead.

"They need to quiet the fuck down," Kai growled and clenched his hands into fists. Omiq sighed and shook his head at his friend's childishness before going back to fetch some more mead for his unruly customers.

Left to himself, Kai tried taking deep breaths and counting backwards from ten, clenching and unclenching his fists as he repeated the exercise over and over. He considered himself a very patient person, though people who knew him would often tell him otherwise. In fact, many went as far as to say that he had the shortest fuse they had ever seen. But Kai still considered himself a very patient person.

"What in the two moons are you doing, nya?"

He looked up to find his friend staring down at him with an overly amused expression plastered on his face. He was holding a tray containing four more bottles of mead.

"I'm trying to-"

But he never got to finish that sentence.

"Cat! What is taking so damn long?"

Kai desperately tried to recall whatever was written in 'The Lusty Argonian Maid.' Thinking about that particular piece always quelled his temper. Unfortunately for him, his memory failed him after he had successfully recited the first paragraph in his head. Now, the incessant blabbering of the mercenaries bore into his mind, blotting out all thought. He rose from his seat. Pulling the crossbow off of its resting place on his back, he placed it on the counter. It was soon joined by his knapsack, the pouch containing crossbow bolts and his sheathed katana. "Give me that tray."

Well, he tried to be patient most of the time.

Omiq, who had had been watching him curiously all this time finally understood what he was about to do. He reluctantly obeyed his former superior. "Just don't break too much furniture, nya. Prices are rising. My level of income, on the other hand, is not, nya."

Without a word, Kai marched to the table occupied by the loud Nords and placed the tray on the table with a loud thud, effectively shutting them up.

"Now that I have your attention, I want to make something clear to you miserable molecules of mildew." Kai snarled, "This is a restaurant. You eat here. So do others. As such, I would like to tell you that you dunderheads are ruining my conversation with my pointy-eared, furry friend over there," he flicked his thumb at Omiq, "And I don't like that. So why don't y'all stuff your mugs with mead like gents and give us some peace and quiet, huh?"

"Oh boy, nya…" Omiq muttered.

There was a moment of silence as the men glanced at each other before breaking into a hearty laughter and rose to their feet.

"Boy, you should learn to mind your own business," the leader looking Nord said, taking a step in Kai's direction. "And place a rein on that tongue of yours. It'll get you into trouble one of these days."

Kai responded with a smirk. "Funny you should say that. I was going to say the same thing to you."

It might have been because Kai was too busy getting in the leader's face, or it could be because he wasn't expecting the thugs to make the first move, but for some reason, he didn't sense the archer creep up behind in. So it wasn't a surprise that he never saw the empty mead bottle being swung at his head. The glass bottle shattered against his skull, sending him stumbling forward a few steps towards the burly Nord, who met him halfway with a punch to the gut.

Kai collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach. He was winded. His scalp had been split open and blood flowed freely along the side of his face. Then came the kicks and the insults. Kai curled up on the floor in a fetal position, shielding his head with his forearms. After about a minute or so, the stomping stopped. He felt the warm liquid trickling down along his cheek. It had been a while since he had bled; too long, in fact. Sticking out his tongue, he tasted his blood. It was metallic and disgusting, just like he remembered. Head wounds were always troublesome; they bled too much. He grinned. The first condition had been met.

"You aimed for my head…" Kai muttered as he placed his palms on the floor and pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly.

This surprised the thugs, who had by now seated themselves again.

"You have to know, a blow like that could kill a guy… right?"

His voice sounded calm. He was surprised himself; the mercenaries even more so.

"And this means you were intentionally trying to kill me… right?"

"So you want some more, you crazy bastard, huh?" the leader bellowed and got to his feet again.

Grinning like a maniac, Kai finally cracked his knuckles. "So then, whatever happens next is what you deserve, _right_?"

The Lightning Bolt spell caught the leader right on the chest, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the far wall. As he slid down and landed on his butt, Kai turned his attention to the others, "A soldier prefers haste over cleverness. Strike quickly and you'll end it quickly too."

Omiq chuckled and called out to Ghorbash. The fun was just beginning.

One of the men tried to punch him, but was way off course on account of being drunk. Kai tilted his head to the right, allowing the gauntleted fist to sail by only inches from his left ear. He then countered with a hard right hook, catching the man under the ear. Then he grabbed the man's outstretched appendage and hurled him over his shoulder and into a nearby table. The table broke under the man's weight and he lay there, unconscious.

"Three hundred Septims, nya…" Omiq shook his head sadly.

Before the third could even make his move, Kai raised his right foot and planted it across the man's face, sending him stumbling backwards. The mercenary, clearly dazed, supported himself against a wooden column, seemingly having forgotten about the danger he was in. Taking advantage of that error, Kai launched a round kick at the man's head and squashed it between his shin and the column. He waited as his latest victim slid down along the column and landed with his butt on the floor before turning to face the last one. "You're the one that thumped me over the head, weren't you?"

The man faltered for a split second before drawing a dagger and charging. The sudden charge caught Kai off guard and he couldn't completely dodge the swing. The man managed to slash him diagonally across the chest, though the cut was shallow.

Kai looked down at his now torn vest, then up at his assailant, "You son of a bitch! That was my last piece of decent clothing! I don't have money to buy new clothes! Who's gonna pay for this, huh? Your in-laws?"

As he was ranting, the man saw his opportunity and charged again. This time, however, Kai caught the man's outstretched wrist with his right hand and sidestepped, causing the man to stumble forward due to his own momentum. Using this to his advantage, Kai wrenched the arm behind the man's back, causing him to stab himself with his own dagger. The leather armor absorbed much of the impact, but the dagger was still able to puncture the skin, though it wasn't deep enough to be fatal. As the man cried out in pain, Kai released him and drove his elbow into the back of the man's skull, effectively knocking him out. "That's how it's done. If you can't take out your opponent with the first blow, they have a nasty habit of coming back and biting you in the ass."

"That's impossible! You shouldn't even be able to stand!"

Kai turned and looked at the leader, who had by now recovered and was slowly staggering to his feet. The look of utter disbelief on his face was quite possibly caused by the sight before him. Kai couldn't blame the man. One moment, they were ganging up on him and the next, they were knocked out. He smirked. "All war's a deception; you think your enemy has a weakness and that becomes his greatest strength."

"Fuck you!" he cried out and drew his battleaxe and held it above his head, trying to throw it at Kai. However, he found himself unable to do so. Iron-like fingers had wrapped themselves around his wrist, making any movement completely and utterly impossible. Trying to determine the owner of the fingers, the Nord looked up and came face to tusk with an Orc.

"Fighting always bad," Ghorbash said, squeezing the man's wrist hard enough for him to relinquish his grasp on the weapon, "Now you'll become fry and curry."

The man gulped audibly.

"Don't take your eyes off your opponent, pig-head!"

The mercenary turned his head towards the direction of the voice, only to have a fist collide with his nose, breaking the cartilage with a loud snap. The man choked on his own blood and was barely able to put up a decent fight anymore.

"How does it feel like to be ganged up on?" Kai spat out blood and clutched his stomach, wincing a little. The assault earlier had been remarkably thorough. They had stomped on every part of his body they could get their boots on. In fact, he wouldn't be exaggerating if he said he looked like shit at the moment. However, he had recklessly pushed himself too far. Sensing this, Ghorbash placed one hand on the Nord mercenary's throat and the other on his stomach before lifting him over his head and flinging him out of the window, shattering the pane of glass.

"Four hundred and seventy-five Septims, nya…" Omiq sighed deeply.

"Pig-head?" Ghorbash inquired as he helped Kai limp back to his bar stool and take a seat. Kai shrugged. "I'm not creative enough."

"Don't we know," Ghorbash muttered.

Kai frowned at the Orc as Omiq chuckled. "Clean up the trash, Ghorbash. I'll look after our injured soldier here, nya."

Grinning, Ghorbash began collecting all the limp bodies and robbing them of their gold before picking them all up and throwing them out.

"Very effective…" Kai said, casting a basic Restoration spell on himself.

"You want me to bandage your head, nya? Wouldn't want whatever brains you have to leak out, now would we?" Omiq offered, placing a healing potion on the counter.

"No. I hate those fiddling bits of parchment… they get on my nerves," Kai shuddered and uncorked the little bottle before taking a sip.

Omiq chuckled. "I see your temper is as volatile as ever, nya."

"Disgusting!" Kai made a wry face before looking back at the Khajiit, "Even if you stand on a new stage, it's still the old you that's standing on it, Omiq."

"That's the smartest shit I've ever heard you spout, Captain. Are you sick, nya?"

"Must be the blood loss," Ghorbash said as he gathered up all the shards of glass and proceeded to inspect the broken table.

"Maybe he's right," Kai smiled and took another small sip of the potion. "If it's all the same to you, I'll have that meal now. This potion has killed my taste buds."

"I thought you were broke, nya? I'm not treating you for free, even if you are my friend." Omiq crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'll pay you back with the money I get after completing the quest, all right?" Kai relented. "I think I need a more permanent job, you know?"

"Well, you won't get a job as a waiter. That's a certainty." Ghorbash chuckled and made his way back outside, dragging the broken table with him.

"A true statement if I ever heard one, nya." Omiq chuckled as Kai scowled at the Orc. "As for the quest, it won't be easy, mind you."

That caught his attention. "How so?"

"That information will cost you twenty Septims, nya," Omiq said and held out his paw.

Kai grimaced. "You're evil."

Omiq clapped his hands happily as he rose, "You noticed! I'm flattered, nya."

"Don't get smart with me. This is my house, after all. I can have you kicked out."

"I quiver with fear, nya," the Khajiit smirked. "Fry and curry with bread and ale, yes?"

"And I'll be staying the night as well."

"Yes, your majesty," Omiq's voice came from the kitchen. "Bedding costs are extra, nya."

He hated that cat with a passion.

* * *

"Beautiful view isn't it, nya?"

Kai was inclined to agree with Omiq, though he said nothing.

"It is," Ghorbash nodded.

The three of them occupied a table on the patio, enjoying the cool night breeze, the fantastic view the spot offered, mead and each others' company.

"They say each time of day brings out a specific shade of the Sea of Ghosts, nya…" Omiq mused as he casually sipped from his half empty bottle.

"I believe that tidbit of information." Kai said, allowing his gaze to wander over the horizon. The sea was drenched with the silvery light of the moon. It was a serene moment… an amazing experience.

"That piece of information will-"

"Oh, shut up Omiq." Kai and Ghorbash said simultaneously.

"Fine. Whatever you two say, nya." the Khajiit said in mock surrender, raising his hands.

A comfortable silence fell between the three friends as they consumed their beverages and gazed out at the sea.

"How long has it been, do you think?" Ghorbash asked.

"Since what?" Kai asked right back.

"Since the formation of Orchestra," the large Orc replied.

"Four years," Omiq replied without skipping a beat, "Almost two years since we disbanded, nya."

"Two years…" Ghorbash whistled. "Hard to believe, isn't it, Captain?"

"I used to believe dragons were legends, Ghorbash." Kai laughed bitterly, "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"You're not the only one," Ghorbash said and stood. "Well, good night to you two. I'm off to bed."

"Sweet dreams!" Omiq and Kai called out after the Orc who waved over his shoulder and went inside.

A chilly gust of wind caused them to shiver.

"It's getting colder." Kai remarked.

Chuckling, Omiq finished his bottle. "It's the middle of Heartfire, what did you expect, nya?"

"Yeah, silly me; the winds are changing… it's almost time for the northerlies to start blowing, bringing the cold from Atmora," Kai mused quietly.

"The Burning of King Olaf is in two days," the Khajiit said. "You won't stay for that, nya?"

"Call of duty, Omiq. Who am I to oppose that?" Kai replied, "Besides, the money matters too. I'm broke, you know."

"Ha ha. Touché friend," Omiq threw his head back and laughed before stopping abruptly. "You know, I've been thinking, nya…"

"About?" Kai asked, bringing the bottle up to his lips.

Omiq reached out, making a motion to wrap his fingers around the moon. "I want to re-form Orchestra, nya."

Kai choked and spat out what he could, thumping his chest and entering a coughing frenzy.

"You seem surprised, Captain, nya."

"Do you even know what you're talking about?" Kai managed to force the words out somehow between coughs.

"Of course I do, nya. That's exactly what it is, though," Omiq sighed and rose to his feet, "Just a thought."

Walking over to his friend, the Khajiit thumped Kai on the back, bringing his coughing to an abrupt end. "I'm turning in for the night, Kai. If we don't meet tomorrow morning, I'll say this now: May Arkay watch over you, friend, nya."

After the Khajiit had retired to rest, Kai placed his feet on the table and sank down on the chair, getting comfortable.

"Re-forming Orchestra, huh?" he asked nobody in particular as he closed his eyes and allowed himself a grin, "What a joke."

The sound of the waves crashing into the shore acted as a lullaby for him. The wind ruffling his raven hair wasn't helping him fight off sleep, either.

Forcing his eyes open, he tilted his head to the side. In the distance, outlined against the starry sky, he could see the College of Winterhold. It always came off as a sinister place to him.

"I wonder what that bastard is doing there right now…" he muttered before yawning.

He could always pay a visit later, right?

Deciding it would be unwise to fight the heaviness of lids any longer, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

He had a long trip tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Kai**

"They can declare a 100,000 gold reward for killing a blasted cat, but they can't even construct half decent roads, the lazy bastards."

The carriage went over another ditch, lifting Kai off of his seat and sending him crashing down hard on his rear end for the umpteenth time. _Why were there so many darned ditches?_

Gnashing his teeth, Kai said, "I agree with you, mate… and so does my butt."

The coachman laughed aloud and whipped the horse, speeding it up. They were on the return trip to Ivarstead. Since time was of essence, Kai had convinced the man to drop him off near Ivarstead, which was easier said than done. Ivarstead, roughly halfway between Riften and Whiterun, was quite possibly the only town in the entire province which did not have a direct road leading up to it. What it did have was a barely navigable stretch of dirt and snow, extravagantly riddled with ditches of all shapes and sizes conceivable to the mind and then some. The coachman's angry outburst was nothing if not understandable.

It was late afternoon and the sun would be setting soon. He recalled his rather enlightening trip to Mistveil Keep. True to her word, Maven Black-Briar had kept a neat stack of documents for him to go through. She had also taken the liberty of informing the innkeeper at Ivarstead to keep a room reserved for him. On top of that, she had said that all expenses would be borne by her since it was her responsibility as Jarl to ensure the safety of and in her Hold. Of course, Kai knew that it was in her best interest that she was doing all this; having a man eater roaming free would not encourage pilgrimages to the Throat of the World which translated to loss of business. And Maven would not want that at all.

Speaking of pilgrimages, Kai thought, fifteen out of the twenty-one reported victims claimed by the cat were pilgrims. As a rule, cats were fiercely territorial; they did not hunt in another's territory. That would mean that part of the path leading to the summit belonged to the territory of this particular cat. It would be safe to assume that the cat had a home somewhere up on the mountain, though he could not be sure of this.

Heaving a sigh, Kai looked up at the mountain in question, the Throat of the World, the highest mountain in Skyrim. It was of great spiritual importance to the Nords. Following his gaze, the coach man chuckled, "Us Nords believe that men were formed here when the sky breathed onto the land. Pilgrims travel from across Skyrim to climb the Seven Thousand Steps to High Hrothgar, where the ancient Greybeards dwell in absolute silence in their quest to become ever more attuned to the voice of the sky. Also, the snow at the peak was said to never melt. Funny thing, that."

His curiosity piqued, Kai faced the old Nord. "Interesting. Have you ever climbed the steps, old man?"

"I have. Twice, actually…" the man replied, a faraway look in his eyes, "That was when I had a strong back and even stronger feet. Now, not so much, I'm afraid."

"C'mon you're not _that _old." Kai grinned and let the man reminisce of days gone by. He had his own share of thinking to do.

The documents he had read all had to deal with the reported victims and the steps the authorities had taken. The first case Kai had read about concerned a man by the name of Klimmek. He was a simple man who made deliveries from Ivarstead to High Hrothgar – food, fruits and beverages to the Greybeards. On that fateful day, Klimmek was accompanied by a friend from Dragon Bridge. It was near evening and the pair were smoking and chatting inside Klimmek's house. Klimmek's house was 'L' shaped, with only one door. From where they were seated on the floor, the door was outside their line of sight. This door, the front door, was shut but not bolted because nobody had been killed by the sabre cat in Ivarstead yet. They hadn't lit a fire inside the house as total darkness 'enhances the atmosphere'. It wasn't recorded just what in Oblivion they were smoking

According to Klimmek, it was a cloudy night. Even the moons couldn't have escaped from them. Whether or not this also helped enhance the atmosphere was left to speculation. After taking a lungful, Klimmek passed the pipe to his friend. Instead, the pipe fell on the floor. Cursing at his friend for being clumsy and how his carelessness could've burnt the house down, Klimmek bent down to pick up the pipe. As he did so, the front door came into his view. The door was ajar and through it, silhouetted against a moon which had broken out of the cloud cover, he saw a sabre cat, dragging his friend away by the throat.

For a while, Klimmek was paralyzed. Fear has a way of doing that to you. When he regained his senses, the first thing he did was shut the door and bolt it tightly.

While narrating the incident, Klimmek had said, "When the cat was killing my friend, when it was carrying him away, I, who was sitting so close to my friend, never even heard his breath hitch or any other sound! Believe me, sir, that I am telling the truth. What would I get by lying to you?"

Kai didn't know what to make of this one, honestly. The cat could've easily taken this Klimmek character out as well, but it hadn't. Why, though? That was the biggest question and he was determined to answer it… eventually.

The next one was about two Nord brothers, Vali and Loke. The brothers had a bunch of cows, around twenty or so, and they took these cows to graze in the nearby fields and forests surrounding Ivarstead. It could have been that they hadn't heard about the man-eater, since they had moved there from Falkreath only two weeks ago, or it could be that they thought that their cows would be able to provide the necessary protection. Either way, Vali's twelve year old daughter had also accompanied them on that day.

The two decided to camp outside since it was too dark to be walking home to their village which was roughly seven miles east of Ivarstead. So, after tucking the girl into her bed roll and making sure she was sound asleep, Vali and Loke set out to gather some firewood. They had been gone for about eight minutes at maximum. Upon returning, they found that the girl had disappeared. There were large patches of blood on her bed roll.

Not even one of the cows had been touched.

The two brothers stayed up all night, not daring to close their eyes even for a minute. At daybreak, they followed the trail of blood. The trail led them down a steep slope, up another hill, across three fields and a river, near the foot of the Throat of the World – a journey encompassing roughly five and a half miles.

They did come across the body. Part of the face, the torso and the lower limbs had been eaten. They would not have been able to identify the body had it not been for an amulet of Kynareth that the girl used to wear – a gift from her mother.

Vali had fainted on the spot upon confirming the identity of the body; or what was left of it. Kai found that he could not blame the man.

"My brother has always suffered from rotten luck." Loke had said after narrating the event. "His wife had died only a month before – the main reason we came down to The Rift. But it seems that his bad luck has followed him here."

To Kai, this incident was much more believable. Cats had a tendency of dragging their kill far off places before tucking in, so to speak. The cat had probably been stalking them for a while, he thought. It waited for the perfect opportunity and had taken advantage of it, picking the easiest target it could find.

As for the townsfolk, they had imposed a curfew on themselves. Nobody dared set foot outside their homes after sunset. All work was done during daytime. It was a smart strategy since cats tend to hunt during dusk. Pilgrimages had also been banned. Besides, who in their right mind would want to climb the mountain in this kind of situation?

"This is as far as I go, laddie. There's no road ahead. You'll have to walk," the coachman said, bringing him out of his thoughts, "If you walk down that pathway o'er there, you'll reach Ivarstead in about an hour, considering you don't run into bandits or wolves."

"Thanks for the concern, old man. I appreciate the sentiment," he cracked a smile and disembarked. Walking up to the front of the carriage, Kai held out a small coin purse to the driver, which was promptly refused by the older man with a shake of the head. "I ripped off Falk, son. I'm good for a week," he replied with a cheeky grin. "And besides, anyone willing to end this nightmare deserves at least one free ride. Divines watch over your safety, lad."

With a crack of his whip, he was off. Kai stood there for a few minutes, watching as the carriage disappeared around the bend on the road. Soon, not even the sound of crashing hooves could be heard.

He found it curious how the calming silence could envelop one so completely, should they allow it to do so.

Shaking his head, he pulled his fur cloak tighter around himself and started walking. Though Ivarstead was located in the plains, the cold could get nasty, especially during this time of the year. He had been to Ivarstead enough times to know this for a fact. When he was lad, his master, Kern, would bring him and his senior apprentice to Ivarstead twice a year. Kern had been a pupil of a Greybeard named Arngeir in his youth. From what Kai knew, Kern had left High Hrothgar after a difference of opinion regarding the use of the Thu'um. He then enrolled in the Legion and fought in the war against the Dominion. After that, he retired and raised a family. Kai had been adopted at the age of ten, after Kern's wife had passed away.

Looking back now, Kai considered these trips to Ivarstead among the most fun times he had ever experienced. Kern would always pay a visit to his old mentor and discuss boring topics. For Kai and Ivan, his senior apprentice and Kern's son, it was a chance to settle their rivalry. They would sprint up and down the Seven Thousand Steps every chance they got. It was a test of endurance and both boys were bent upon beating the other. Being two years older than Kai, Ivan would sometimes show his more rational side, stating that he didn't have to climb a mountain to prove he was better. But then again, he was just a twelve year old boy; twelve year old boys were competitive, dangerously so. In fact, the only thing more competitive than a twelve year old boy is a ten year old one. The memory of their 'eternal rivalry', as Kern had come to call it, brought a smile to his lips. What wouldn't he give to turn back time and go back to how things were back then... but he quickly shook such thoughts away. Life was not about 'what ifs' and how doing things differently would've resulted in conditions being different. It was the here and now that mattered. He had to do what he could to make the most of the present. Twenty four hard, long years of being alive had firmly drilled that into his core.

It started snowing as he rounded Shroud Hearth Barrow. He looked up and frowned upon seeing the clouds. Stormy weather was approaching, and it would probably persist for a week at most. Storms meant low visibility and that meant a hard time spotting the target. He paused and took a deep breath. From his vantage point, he could see the entirety of the small town which lay before him. It struck him as odd how the place had not changed much since his last visit about eight years ago. The sun had set now and the only visible source of light came from the inn and from the torches carried by what looked like patrolling guards.

He shivered as a cold wind enveloped him, sending a chill down his spine. Without wasting time, he made for the inn. It was unwise to stay out in the snow, wearing nothing but tattered clothes and a fur cloak. Though the insulated cloak did ward off the cold, it would not be effective if conditions worsened. To him, the prospect of catching the flu wasn't a very welcome one. His body ached from the beating he had received the day before, he did not want anything more on top of that.

As he hurriedly crossed the bridge and walked up to the Vilemyr Inn, he found himself unconsciously rubbing his palms together to generate heat. The patrolling guards had not even graced him with a look, let alone a word. Everybody was on edge, it would seem. He felt bad for the poor bastards. Of course, nobody wanted to be eaten by a giant cat, which sort of explains the party patrolling – strength in numbers.

He pushed open the door and walked inside, closing the door with his foot before a chilly gust of wind could follow him inside. The inside of the tavern wasn't really that special, not that he had expecting anything even remotely special anyway. But it offered warmth, and to a weary and cold traveler, that was worth more than a pile of gold.

Brushing his hair free of the snow, he occupied a barstool and looked around. Other than a Redguard having his dinner, he was the only one in the inn.

"You the, uh, hunter we were expectin'?"

Well, perhaps he wasn't. The barkeep had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He was a Nord, strongly built with a bald spot on his head. The once blonde hair and beard were starting to turn grey. Kai nodded his assent. "What gave me away?"

"We 'ad a letter from Mistveil Keep informin' us tae expect ye." He shrugged before continuing, "Said you'd be arrivin' by today. I knew 'twas you when ye walked in. That crossbow on yer back and the sword on yer waist confirmed it. Though," he chuckled, "wasn't expectin' a whippersnapper like yerself tae show up. How old are you, lad? Have ye made twenty yet, eh?"

Was the bloke being serious? He had trudged through snow, shivered in the cold and had his butt nearly dislocated from his waist, only to be doubted because he looked immature? That pissed him off, somewhat. "I'm twenty four," he said gruffly and pulled his sheathed katana out of the belt and placed it on the barstool to his left; his crossbow he placed on the counter. "Got anything to warm me up, old man?"

"You got the coin?"

Frowning, he threw the man a small coin purse. "I'll be taking a room as well. Maven Black-Briar will be paying my expenses, so don't worry about the supply of coin." Besides, he thought, he didn't have two Septims of his own to rub together.

Opening the small purse, the man meticulously examined its contents and pocketed it. A small smile found its way onto his face as he placed a bottle of Black-Briar mead on the counter, "Take one gulp o' that and you'll forget all 'bout yer long journey," he said, leaning forward, placing his elbows on the counter, "Name's Wilhem by the way. What's yours?"

Kai placed the bottle to my lips and took a greedy gulp. Although his throat burned, he felt the warmth spread all through his body, even warming up his numb fingers and toes, which was an undoubtedly pleasant feeling. He grinned; the stuff was good.

"My name's Kai," he introduced himself as he placed his elbows on the counter and interlaced his fingers before resting his chin on them. "Now then, tell me about this man-eater."

"Kai…" Wilhelm repeated his name a few times, familiarizing himself with the unfamiliar pronunciation. Kai knew that his name was peculiar, even among Nordic names, but it was the only one he had. He liked to think that Nords named their kids after some weird sound which most likely came out of their bottom, and his name was easier to pronounce than something like Ysgramor any day.

"Allow me," another voice came from behind. He glanced over his shoulder to find that the Redguard who had been previously occupied with his meal had gotten up and made his way to them. As he placed his plate on the counter and sat down on the barstool to his right, the man smiled and held out his hand. "Baknar," he said as a way of introduction.

Kai took the man's hand and shook it, "Kai. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Aye, Baknar's the one who disco'ered the latest body," Wilhelm said. "He's more qualified tae discuss this stuff than ol' me."

"Wait. Latest?" Kai cocked an eyebrow. "What latest?"

"Aye, there was one just last night." Wilhelm shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Bad bit o' business, that."

"Another person was taken last night," Kai mused quietly. "Interesting."

"You don't seem surprised." Baknar said, sounding uncertain. Kai looked at him, his expression blank. "Why would I be surprised? I get sent here to deal with a man eater; having been told that time is of essence. Within a few minutes of my arrival, I find that another victim has been claimed just the day before. This was a possibility and I was prepared for it. So no, I am not surprised. Interested yes, but certainly not surprised. Now if you would be kind enough to give me the details, I would be obliged."

He could feel the curious stares Wilhelm and Baknar sent his way as he took another sip of his mead. He didn't mind; most people would disagree with his ideals. He was used to it.

"Very well," Wilhelm said and took his seat across his two customers. "Ye know about how High Hrothgar is a pilgrimage site, aye?"

"It is?" Kai replied sarcastically, "I didn't know that."

Baknar cover his mouth and coughed while Wilhelm raised an eyebrow. "Two nights ago, there came this party o' twenty pilgrims from Bruma; ten men and ten women. Dead on their feet they were. Came bustling in the inn, wanted tae be put up. Told 'em couldn't accommodate 'em all, that I did. But they wouldn't listen. Said they were ready to lie down on the floor if I let 'em. Can ye believe it?" Wilhelm said with a shake of his head. "I said I could at least let the women stay in the cellar for the night. The men would have tae seek shelter among the villagers. Of course, the people would not have forsaken 'em. But that did nae happen."

Kai nodded, silently urging the older man to continue. Wilhelm obliged. "The men said they'd camp out near the Barrow."

"And you didn't stop them?" Kai asked, "You just let them go?"

"I had 'em convinced," Wilhelm spat. "Had it not been for the damned Vigilant they wouldn't 'ave camped outside."

"Vigilant? As in, a Vigilant of Stendarr?" Kai finished off his mead with one last gulp. "What's a Vigilant of Stendarr doing in Ivarstead?"

Baknar cleared his throat. "You see, Maven Black-Briar had declared a reward of 50,000 Septims to whoever could slay the beast. You've heard of this, right? So naturally, a lot of interested hopefuls started showing up."

"'Twas like a manhunt," Wilhelm said and brought out three more bottles of mead before passing them around. "Just they were huntin' no man."

"A total of seventeen hunters dropped by Ivarstead to try their luck," Baknar elaborated after taking a sip. "They set traps, poisoned the bodies, patrolled day and night, but couldn't so much as hurt a hair on the cat's coat. You might not believe me, but the poisoned bodies were left untouched, the traps hadn't even been approached, and two of the hunters were taken themselves. All they caught were a few wolves and foxes," he shrugged. "Somebody started a rumor that the cat was in fact the Daedric Prince Hircine, come to toy with the mortals."

"Hence the Viigilant," Kai nodded. "I understand. You can continue with the story now, Wilhelm."

"Aye, that I will," the man chuckled, apparently pleased with the effect created by his narration of the facts. "Where was I? Oh yes, the Vigilant. Can't for the life o' me remember what 'is name was, I'm afraid. Said 'e was on 'is way tae Markarth. Had a haunted house tae investigate or somethin'."

"Instead he took the detour of a lifetime," Baknar chuckled, "Straight to Stendarr."

"So the Vigilant was the victim?" Kai asked while cradling his bottle. "Care to elaborate?"

"With pleasure, lad. See, when I told the men that they could ask the villagers for shelter, the Vigilant stands up and says that the party could camp outside safely because he'd be with 'em, protectin' 'em." Wilhelm scoffed. "Would tear out the bloomin' Daedra's throat with 'is bare teeth, he said. No matter what I said, the bloke wouldn't listen, so I gave up. If they wanted tae end up in Oblivion that bad, who was I tae stop 'em, eh?"

Wilhelm took a long gulp of his mead. The man had gotten excited, Kai noted. Something had him pretty riled up. He waited patiently for the man to continue; as patiently as he could, anyway.

"So they camped out near the ol' Barrow, they did. Told 'em the blasted place was haunted. But who listens to an old fool these days, eh? There was some treasure 'unter who came a few years ago to rob that tomb. Died there and we've been seeing his ghost wavin' its arms at us ever since. Wyndelus was his name, methinks. Poor son of-"

"Wilhelm," Kai said quietly, biting back his rising frustration. "Tell me about the Vigilant."

"What? Oh yeah. That. I get so easily sidetracked these days. Must be the mead you know?" Wilhelm shook his head. "Where was I again?"

"If they wanted to end up in Oblivion, who were you to stop them?" Kai supplied while pinching the bridge of his nose. His patience was wearing thin.

"Ah, of course!" Wilhelm grinned, oblivious to Kai's mental state. "The men were holed up inside the Barrow itself while the Vigilant sat at the doorway, guardin' 'em. That was how things were when I left 'em that night with spare blankets and ale." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I'm an early riser, see? I usually get up before dawn. That mornin' was no different. After wakin' up, I thought I might as well check up on 'em, see to it that everythin' was all right. When I did arrive at the Barrow, I found that the men were still sleepin' soundly, but the Vigilant was nowhere to be seen. All I saw was a large puddle of blood. That was when I ran tae Baknar."

On cue, Baknar spoke up. "I usually live here in the inn. That night, though, I had to sleep in Bassianus' house to make space for the women. Just as Wilhelm told you, there was a large puddle of blood where the Vigilant had been sitting. I simply followed the trail. It led to the southern foot of the mountain, where the body was hidden between two boulders. The upper body had been eaten with the exception of the face." Baknar shivered. "Those eyes still haunt my thoughts."

"Will you take me there?" Kai asked, "First thing tomorrow? I need to see it with my own eyes."

"It would be my pleasure." Baknar smiled, "Although it's two days old."

"Doesn't matter," Kai said quietly. "I still want to see it. But first," he turned to face Wilhelm, "I was told that you have a room for me, yes?"

* * *

**Omiq**

"Fish good. Fish very good. Come and try mister. You won't fall sick."

The Khajiit sighed. There was no way he was getting any customers. Perhaps the Captain had been right; the whole restaurant thing just wasn't meant for him. But he was talented in the art of cooking, he had been told that quite often. So the restaurant was the most obvious choice for him. Having access to Proudspire Manor had made things that much simpler. However, Solitude, being the capital of Skyrim, was well supplied with restaurants and so very few people would drop by a restaurant owned and operated by a Khajiit. Somebody had spread a rumor that they mixed Skooma with the food being served and so the inflow of customers was nigh negligible on any given day.

So it was with great interest and mild surprise that Omiq gazed at the man who had just entered and was making his way over to the counter. He was a Nord, clad in a black cloak which surrounded his body like a blanket. Though muffled, Omiq could pick up the faint rustling of armor coming from every stride the man made. He looked young, about twenty-three years of age. He had a pale face, high cheekbones, an aquiline nose, neatly combed raven hair and sharp orange eyes. He wasn't too thin, but he wasn't too bulky either. He looked like the son of some rich noble.

Omiq smiled to himself. "This one is afraid that blood is unavailable at the Little Elsewyr, nya. Omiq would like to point out that he is a humble servant of Arkay and cannot stand the presence of the undead, nya."

The man smiled good-naturedly. His sharp canines did not go unnoticed by Omiq. "What gave me away?"

His accent was crisp, Omiq noted, "The eyes. Orange eyes are uncommon among mortals, nya," Omiq pointed out as the vampire took a seat across from him. "You really are a sharp one, just as I had been informed."

Omiq bowed deeply. "This one is honored, nya."

The vampire waved it off. "No need to be so formal. So, do you know who I am?"

"Omiq cannot recall having ever conversed with an undead. Being a servant of Arkay does not allow him to enjoy their company much, nya." Omiq replied, sitting down and staring calmly at the new arrival.

"Of course. Pardon me, I should have made an appointment," he said in an apologetic tone. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Firo. I would have offered my hand, but I am afraid you would decline, being a servant of Arkay and all."

"The pleasure is all Omiq's," Omiq returned. "And Firo thought right. This one would have offered some fish, but Omiq was afraid vampires do not take much stock in such delicacies, being undead and all that, nya."

If Firo was offended, he didn't let it show. He merely smirked. "Touché , my good man. You guessed quite correctly. Indeed, I am not here for your fish, though I have heard good things about it."

Omiq raised a curious eyebrow.

"No, what brings me to you on this fateful day is the want of information," Firo stated. "I am told that you are among the best information brokers in Skyrim and since your residence is so close to my own, I thought I would employ your services. Of course, I am willing to pay."

As if to demonstrate his goodwill, Firo reached inside his cloak brought out a plump looking coin purse and set it atop the counter, silently asking Omiq to pick it up and examine its contents. "It contains a thousand Septims. Quite generous an amount in exchange for whatever I am seeking, would you not agree?"

Omiq had to confess, it was a sweet deal. But he had his own set of rules regarding business; rules he was not willing to break for anybody. He placed his elbows on the counter and interlaced his fingers, resting his chin atop them before smirking cheekily at Firo. "Omiq would like to point out the fact that this one deals in information, nya. Indeed, though the sum offered by Firo is generous, this one cannot accept it, nya."

Omiq saw Firo narrow his eyes in confusion and his smirk widened. "In exchange for information, this one asks for information in return. Firo can ask Omiq anything and in return, Omiq gets to ask Firo anything. Sound good, nya?"

"Fair enough," Firo grinned and pocketed the coin purse. "Now then. You have heard of the Dawnguard, I presume?"

Omiq nodded his assent.

"I want to know the exact location of their base."

Omiq considered. It was not business to know why his client would want to know such a thing or what he intended to do with the information. "This information stays confined within these walls," Omiq began. "This one is willing to answer your question, but Omiq wishes to tell Firo what this one plans to ask, nya. Only after hearing it can Firo decide whether or not he is willing to go through with the exchange of information, nya."

"Of course. Sounds like a good enough deal," Firo said and leaned in. "What is it that you wanted to ask?"

"Over the course the past year, this one has seen the steady increase in vampire attacks all over Skyrim. As a counter measure, the Dawnguard has been re-formed, nya. Usually, vampires are secretive creatures who stay in the shadows and pull the strings; never do they engage in direct assaults in public, nya. That got Omiq thinking, 'The vampires must have something big up their sleeves if they are resorting to this.'" Omiq looked directly at Firo. "This is what this one wanted to ask. Is Omiq right in his reasoning, nya?"

Firo's eyes narrowed dangerously. However, his voice was like silky smooth as he spoke. "That is a bit too much, wouldn't you agree?"

Omiq shrugged his shoulders lazily. He was used to such negotiations; they had never worked on him. "Take it or leave it, nya."

For a while nobody spoke. It was a battle of wills and neither was willing to back off. Firo's expression was carefully neutral. For a while, it looked as if Omiq would lose this battle of the nerves, but then Firo grinned. "I like your style, friend. The directness of your question is truly something I have never encountered before." Then his expression hardened. "Whatever I say stays within these walls, yes?"

"Upon this one's honor, nya," Omiq replied.

"Good enough," Firo said. "Tell me, what would you think if somebody were to tell you they could blot out the sun?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Kai**

"That's him?"

"Yes. That's him," Baknar replied with a nod. "Whatever's left of him, anyway."

"No shit…" Kai muttered and crouched beside the remains of the Vigilant's body. It had snowed the night before, covering the corpse with a fresh layer of powder. Kai used a basic Sparks spell to heat up the nearby atmosphere and waited for the snow to melt away.

"Are you a mage?" Baknar asked curiously. "I thought you Nords despised the arcane arts."

Kai shrugged while sweeping his electricity coated right palm over the corpse to speed up the melting process. "It helps. In my line of work, it pays to be self sufficient."

"A true statement if I ever heard one." Baknar replied and took a seat on a nearby boulder. "So tell me about yourself. Why hunting?"

"Well, would you believe me if I told you that I was insanely bored and didn't know what to do with my life?" Kai said absently as the Vigilant's remnants started to take shape. "Of course you wouldn't."

Baknar thought it best not to pry anymore, and as a result, silence fell between them. As the minutes rolled by, Kai found himself getting increasingly flustered by the continuous sound of crackling electricity radiating from his palm. "By Shor's bones, just how much snow was dumped on the half eaten son of a barnacle?"

Right on cue, Kai's fingers grazed the hard bone of the Vigilant's now exposed rib cage, causing him to sigh with relief. He heard Baknar chuckle. "Ask and you shall receive."

"Must've gone for a morning walk around these parts, the heartless bastard…" Kai muttered and shoveled the remaining few centimeters of snow with his bare hands, bringing the corpse of the Vigilant out in the fresh air for the first time in almost two days.

"Should you really be talking like that about a God?" Baknar asked, amused, as Kai began examining the corpse. "Well, a dead God, at any rate."

"Never been one for religion and spirituality, mate." Kai answered before whistling. "Well, what do we have here... come take a look."

Kai shifted a little and made space for Baknar to crouch beside him. "See this here? Those are cat bites for sure. But these right here-" Kai pointed towards the Vigilant's calves, "These are nothing like the ones covering the torso and face."

"Yeah, you're right." Baknar muttered. "It's like something smaller took a few bites outta this. Whaddaya think? A fox?"

"Probably, although it must've been one ballsy fox," Kai muttered in response. "It's highly unusual for any other carnivore to steal from a cat's kill. Even bears stay away. Don't you think this is strange?"

"Well, now that I think about it, that is kind of peculiar," Baknar stroked his beard as he replied. "But is that really important?"

Kai kept silent a while before answering, "Could be nothing. But it's still strange though. Anyway," he sighed, "what about pug marks? Show me."

"I thought you would never ask." Baknar grinned. "Come with me."

Rising to his feet, Kai followed the Redguard along the slope of the mountain due west, towards Ivarstead.

"You know that man eaters have a tendency to prowl near settlements, right?" Baknar said as the duo arrived at the bank of the Treva. "Well, this one's no different. It uses the bridge to cross over to Ivarstead after coming down the Steps. I find fresh tracks here every day. Right about… here!"

"So you know for a certainty that the thing comes down the mountain?" Kai asked as his eyes fell upon the tracks. They were going eastward, towards the Throat of the World.

"Yeah. Seen it coming down myself," Baknar said with a smile and leaned against a tree as Kai crouched on the snow to examine the pug marks. "Quite a story, that."

"Yeah, well it'll hafta wait," Kai said. "Now let's see what we've got here… female, that's a certainty. From the length of the stride, I'd say roughly three feet tall at the shoulders. Nice. That should make it about… six years old, maximum."

"Quite correct," Baknar grinned from his spot. "Do you always think aloud during analyzing?"

Kai shrugged. "It's a habit. You said that none of the sanctioned hunters could even lay a scratch on it, right?"

"Pretty much," the Redguard nodded. "Why do you ask?"

"There's an injury on the rear left paw, see?" Kai pointed out as Baknar came closer to peer over his shoulder. "This toe right here. It's curled backwards."

"Well, guess I hit it after all." Baknar said slowly. Kai craned his neck to stare at him. "What?"

Baknar grinned again, "Told you I had a story."

'Guy grins a lot', Kai thought. "Okay, mate. Let's hear it."

* * *

'Can't they have just brought the Dragonborn out for this job? I'm sure he could've shouted the shit of the cat,' Kai thought. 'Elisif could've just batted her eyelids at him and saved me all the hassle.'

Against popular belief, Kai was a very lazy person. He did not like overworking himself. He had always been this way, and it was unlikely that he would ever find satisfaction in physical exertions. It just wasn't in his nature.

So he did the only thing he could; he whined.

For three days, he had been travelling the region by foot, acclimatizing and getting to know the layout of the land. Adult sabre cats had a territory of about twenty three to forty square miles. Walking that distance, every day, was a tiring experience and it made him more irritable than he usually was.

However, he felt that he couldn't complaint. His mentor had always said that, 'Man has but one destiny.' Even though he didn't believe in destiny or fate, he knew in his heart that he was born to do this; he was born to spend his days under the open sky, doing what he liked, when he liked. There were no rules, no restrictions. He was free, in every sense of the word, to slack off as much he wanted. He would not trade his freedom for anything.

That did not mean he liked working, though.

It was already dark and when he crossed the bridge and re-entered Ivarstead, it had started snowing. The streets were already deserted, which meant that the curfew was already in effect. He felt the stares of the patrolling guards on his back as he pushed open the doors of the inn. The guards had not taken kindly to him. They felt that it was their responsibility to protect the citizens. It was territorial, nothing personal. Ivarstead was their territory, and Kai was an unwelcome outsider here. They let him know that every time they crossed paths with him.

Of course, Kai could see through them. He knew the real reason behind the passive aggressive behavior. It was fear; nothing more nor less. The Ivarstead guards were afraid that the outsiders, namely him, would report their incompetence to the Jarl, thereby resulting in their untimely dismissal. Nobody would want to find themselves unemployed, so it was natural. He could have talked to them, made them realize that their fears were unjustified, that he was not a threat. But he had decided against it in the end. He figured that it would be too much work and he neither had the words nor the patience to convince a few stubborn Nords.

"Back already, eh?" Wilhelm greeted him with a grin and placed a bottle of mead on the counter, which Kai graciously accepted. "Any luck?"

The Nord didn't reply until he had drained half the bottle. He didn't know what Maven Black-Briar put into the bottles, but it was damn good mead. He was probably getting addicted to the stuff. Kai then placed the bottle back down and took a seat across the barkeep, "Lots and lots of pugmarks. Nothin' else, I'm afraid." He paused, "Although, every trail leads up to the Throat of the World. The cat's got a home up on that godsforsaken mountain. I'll bet every Septim Maven sends me on that hypothesis."

"Ye seem awfully confident, lad." Wilhelm grinned again, "And from the looks of it, awfully fagged out. Want somethin' tae eat?"

"You just read my mind. What are you, psychic?" Kai grinned back at the older man. "Yeah, I'll have dinner now and turn in for the night."

"Aye, comin' right up."

Kai brought the half-full bottle back up to his lips and took a small gulp. His mind went over what Baknar had told him three days ago, that crazy bastard.

It was common knowledge among hunters that cats didn't like getting wet. No matter how thick the coat of fur, they would not want to get into the icy cold rivers and streams of the province. So, Barknar had deduced that if the cat was crossing over to Ivarstead, it'd have to do so using the bridge which acted as the town's only way of reaching the Throat of the World. Having established this, Barknar constructed a simple, elevated wooden platform, about ten feet high and shaped like an inverted 'U', a hunting blind, on the Ivarstead side of the bank. Since man eaters had a tendency of wandering near settlements, Barknar was fairly certain that he would get a shot at it.

And he did.

Every day after sunset, Barknar would climb up to his blind and lay there, poised with his bow and arrow, ready to strike. His chance came on the fourth night of his vigil. Fortunately, it was a full moon that night and he could see perfectly as the cat slowly crossed the bridge. So enchanted was Barknar by the sight that he couldn't even notch an arrow, let alone pull the drawstring. "Watching a sabre cat is always an awe-inspiring moment," Baknar had said with his signature grin. "And when said cat is basked in the pale moonlight, there's something about it which paralyzes man, forcing them to stop and admire the elegance and beauty of the undoubtedly majestic creature, even if it is for a fleeting moment." Kai had scoffed and responded with a sarcastic remark, but he knew from personal experience that Baknar was right.

Nonetheless, when he did regain his nerves, Barknar silently cursed everything under the Sun – with a lot of blood and bloom – until he heard the cat coming back. He was delighted to see that it wasn't carrying anything – or anyone – in its mouth. As it was crossing the bridge, clouds started rolling in, obscuring the moons. Cursing his rotten luck – with even more blood and bloom – Barknar threw caution to the wind, notched an arrow, pulled the drawstring as far back as he could and let it fly just as darkness enveloped the surroundings. To his satisfaction, he heard a yelp of pain and the sound of scurrying footfalls. He had hit the cat, though he knew not where.

Now he knew what effect his arrow had had on the cat: his arrow had pierced a single toe in its rear left paw. Not a debilitating injury, but a wounded animal was always more dangerous to track, especially since Kai did any tracking on foot and alone. He didn't know what, but something out there was bent on making this assignment as troublesome as possible for him, of that much he was certain.

"It's human to err, but if you really wanna fuck shit up, involve a Redguard. Wouldn't you agree?"

Kai heard Baknar chuckle. Baknar and Wilhelm had both gotten used to his temper and speech. They both understood that he never meant these insults, that it was just part of his dry, sarcastic sense of humor.

"You were a sailor, weren't you?" Baknar asked.

"Aye, served two years in the Imperial Navy," Kai responded. He then narrowed his eyelids and spun around on his stool to look at the Reduard who was having his supper at the table. "How in Oblivion do you know? Is everyone in this town psychic?"

"It's pretty obvious, really." Baknar shrugged. "You have a mouth like a sailor. Worse, actually."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

It was at this moment that Wilhelm brought Kai's supper, cutting off any further conversation. Baknar finished his meal and retired to bed while Kai was halfway through his. After finishing his food, Kai paid and went outside to stand in the moonlight for a while now that the snowfall had subsided. He did this every night; it was as close as he would get to sleeping outside.

The moons were half full, but there was enough light to illuminate the little town. He could not see the guards. 'Probably off getting some food', he thought. He did not step onto the fresh snow, but remained on the last step. Sighing deeply as the cold night air ruffled his raven locks, he thought back to the events of the Civil War. It had ended about eight months ago. He had not served the entirety of the conflict; he had quit after the incident at Helgen. He shivered. He thought back to what Omiq had said about re-forming Orchestra and frowned. That Khajiit must have no life…

Quite by mistake, he looked down at the snow and froze. For a moment, he even forgot to breathe. On the fresh snow were fresh pug marks, and from the looks of it, it had stopped at the Inn's front door. He crouched near the marks and identified it as the man eater; an injured toe on the rear left paw. Kai knew these particular marks well enough by now.

The cat had followed him down the mountain, and he didn't even realize. It could've taken him at any given instant, but it hadn't done so. Why, he would never know.

Despite himself, a small smirk found its way on Kai's face. At that moment, he forgot all about Helgen, Orchestra, or any other complications in his otherwise complication-riddled life. He had been checkmated in the first round and had been a hair's breadth away from death. The cat had turned the tables and had almost, almost turned the hunter into the hunted; and that thought excited him to no end.

The game was afoot.

* * *

**Reina**

Reina Coldridge was a smart person and she knew it. Ever since she was a child, she had possessed a sharp wit. It had only been sharpened to a fine point over the course of time. Now, at twenty-three years of age, she was a successful businesswoman and had no complaints with life in general.

Being rich, she could easily sit tight in Riftweald Manor, not lifting a finger and being lazy to her heart's content. There was nothing stopping her from doing so either. Except one thing; she deplored physical and mental inactivity.

That's why she was currently occupying a seat in the Markarth Treasury House, where an auction for old Dwemer artifacts was being held. Everywhere she looked, she saw rich people appraising pieces of junk and bidding for them. Why they spent so much on pieces of scrap metal, she would never understand. She was aware of the high prices these particular items fetched in the black markets as well.

But then again, it wasn't these pieces of Dwemer metal the young Nord was after.

"I assume you are enjoying yourself?"

Reina was not at all surprised when she turned to find herself face to face with Thonar Silver-Blood, the most influential member of the Silver-Blood family. She gave him a polite smile. "Indeed."

"Have you tried the wine?" Thonar asked and motioned for a boy carrying a tray of wine glasses their way. He took two of them and sent the boy away before offering her one of the glasses, "We Silver-Bloods take much pride in our wine."

Still smiling, she took a sip. To her satisfaction, it was indeed magnificent. "Exquisite," she told her host. "Your pride is justified, I must say."

She could see the man's chest momentarily swell with pride. "Of course. The Silver-Bloods are the wealthiest family in the Reach. We ensure everything we serve is of the finest possible quality."

She coyly tucked a stray strand of her long crimson hair behind her ear. "I apologize on behalf of my Jarl," she said in a sweet voice. "Her duties to her people have kept her occupied and thus she asked me to attend in her stead. A man of your position must surely understand."

She knew he had taken the bait when he went a little red in the face and took another sip of his wine. She mentally smirked. Men were such simple creatures; they could never resist a woman who batted her eyelids at them, especially the ones with an unhappy marriage.

"Of course I understand," Thonar replied. "Being Jarl is a burden and a blessing at the same time. Wouldn't you agree, Thane, uh, I'm drawing a blank here…"

She laughed lightly, feigning embarrassment. "My name is Reina Coldridge. You can call me Reina."

"Reina… a peculiar name for a Nord woman," Thonar mused, taking another sip. "If you don't mind me asking, what does it mean? Your name, that is."

She laughed again. This time, she went for a carefree laugh, subtly bordered with elegance. "I don't mind at all. In fact, you're the third person ever to ask me that question tonight," she decided to give him a small tidbit of her life, just to keep him invested. "It can mean queen or summit." She paused and smiled serenely, "My mother gave me that name."

"Well, it's a beautiful name for a beautiful lady," Thonar replied with a smile of his own. "It suits you."

Blushing on cue, Reina smiled coyly at him. "Thank you. You really are too kind."

When Thonar blushed himself, she knew she had nailed it. It was time to reel in the catch.

"It really is crowded here," she began and looked around. "Can we talk someplace else… privately?"

She started toying with a scarlet band which framed her face while looking down at her feet and stealing a shy glance at Thonar. This little trick had never failed her in the past. It was no surprise when it worked on Thonar as well.

"Sure. Making sure my esteemed guests are comfortable is my duty as host."

Things were coming to a head now. She could feel it.

Keeping up her shy façade, Reina fell into step behind him as he led her to the bedroom while muttering incoherently about the great deeds performed by the Silver-Bloods in developing Markarth and the Reach in general. Reina waited. Men always steal a glance behind them to make sure their guest is with them before opening a door. Thonar was no different. He stole a glance at her and opened the bedroom door. He then turned around to usher his guest inside. Reina smirked upon seeing the confused expression playing across his face. She knew that expression very well. She saw it every time she accompanied somebody someplace and the person turned around to see her… gone. They all failed to realize that she was, in fact, standing exactly where she had been when they had stolen a glance.

Ah, how Nocturnal worked in strange ways.

She didn't waste time. Quickly but quietly, she sneaked up behind Thonar and slipped her right arm around the man's neck, crushing his carotids between her forearm and bicep. Her left palm she placed on his mouth to stop any attempts at screaming for help. She then placed her foot on the inside of his knee and applied just enough force to bring him down onto them. With practiced ease, she shook his head a little, just enough to speed up the process of strangulation. She felt him struggling and flailing against her hold, but he was fading fast. Reina did a countdown mentally. Thonar attained unconsciousness just as she reached two, much to her delight. She then picked up the man's limp body and lifted him atop her right shoulder before dumping him on the bed. After making sure he really was unconscious and not dead, she closed the door and disengaged the shadowcloak. Mentally thanking Nocturnal, Reina opened the drawer beside the bed and retrieved a small, square box. Flipping it open and checking the small red gem it contained before snapping it closed, she pocketed it.

"What's yours is mine, love," she smiled at Thonar's unconscious figure, then walked out of the bedroom, a polite smile on her face. She smiled and exchanged pleasantries with anyone and everyone she came across while exiting the Treasury House, taking care not to hurry, since it could arouse unwanted suspicion. When asked, she gave the excuse of being bored, which was true.

She casually whistled as she navigated the lanes of the City of Stone. She always thought that 'City of Stone' was a perfect nickname for Markarth; the streets were stone, the houses were stone, the beds were stone and even the chairs and tables were stone. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if the people here had pebbles and rocks for breakfast. Reachmen were strange.

As in Riften, the guards were in the pocket of the most influential family; in the case of Markarth, the Silver-Bloods. They paid no heed to her as she passed them and made her way to the city gates. A guard opened the gates for her and she quietly thanked her and slipped her a Septim.

Winter was nearly upon the province the Skyrim. She was assaulted by a chilly gust of wind as she exited the city. Sighing, she and tied her long crimson hair into a knot. As much as she loved her hair, she was not a fan of it draping itself on her face.

It was late afternoon, but the duration of sunlight hours had diminished greatly. Darkness usually fell with dusk now. Quite naturally, she made haste to the coach waiting for her at the stables. Once she had climbed aboard, she told the driver to take her away.

"So, had fun with Thonar in his cozy bedroom?"

She scoffed as she heard the coachman chuckle. Older brothers were so stupid…

"At least I had the balls to get the job done, unlike someone I know."

"You have the charm, lass. Old farts fall for you left and right. It would be a crime to not use that to our advantage."

Reina rolled her eyes. "Why don't you just admit that you're a lazy bum, Bryn?"

"You called me a lazy bum?" Brynjolf looked over his shoulder at her, "That's actually very, very hurtful, lass."

"Oh live with it you drama queen," she chuckled and climbed over the wooden divider to sit beside her brother. She then pulled out the small rectangular box and held it out, "Here, the loot."

"Good job. Here, take the reins, lass." Brynjolf said before relieving himself of the reins and taking the box. Reina chuckled as Brynjolf examined the Stone of Barenziah minutely, a big smile on his face.

"Number twenty-three," she announced proudly. "Just one left to go."

"Aye. You're good for a pretty face." Brynjolf agreed and took back the reins, smirking.

"Oh please. It's my charm that gets jobs done, no?," Reina replied sarcastically and let her hair down. She was too much of a good mood to not allow her hair the freedom to fly about.

"I can name two people who are completely immune to your so called charm."

She frowned. "You just had to ruin it, didn't you?"

"I am the older brother. It's my responsibility to ruin your moments."

"Careful with the ego," Reina smirked. "I might just pop it one day."

"I quiver with fear."

Reina elbowed her brother in the ribs lightly. "But seriously. Who were you talking about?"

"Well, one's me."

"Obviously," she replied with an eye roll.

Brynjolf chuckled and whipped the mare. "And the other one you haven't seen in almost seven years."

"Oh him," Reina said quietly. "Yes, it has been a rather long time."

"I'm surprised you still remember him, lass," Brynjolf confessed.

"Women remember the jerks they grow up with, Bryn," she replied casually. "Helps us track them down and stab them while they sleep."

"No wonder you're single." Brynjolf said quietly.

"I'm right here, you know?"

"Anyway," Brynjolf replied and whipped the mare again. "He was in town three days ago."

Reina promptly choked on her saliva. "What?"

"What, what?" Brynjolf mocked his sister and broke into laughter. "You should've seen the look on your face. It was priceless."

"Kai-pie was in Riften?" Reina asked, flabbergasted. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I didn't see what good it would've done. You rarely leave the house after…" he cleared his throat, "well, after what happened with Mercer. You're always cooped inside, drowning yourself in work."

"Yes, but-"

"No. You will listen." Brynjolf said in what she assumed was his superior older brother voice, which was somewhat amusing. Brynjolf, however, went on undeterred, "You're Guildmaster. You have responsibilities, I get it alright? I've seen Mercer slave away hours upon hours since I was sixteen. But he still took his time outs. His mental health was always extraordinary. I'm not trying to compare you two; I know you are always worried about us and want the best for us, but never forget that we want the best for you too, Reina. We are all worried for you."

He paused a while to gauge her reaction. When she said nothing, he sighed. "You never listened to us, which is something I respect. You've done everything your own way till now, so I won't tell you what to do at this moment, either. Just… just know that even if you are used to the pain, there are people whose hearts break every time they see you hurt yourself, all right?"

She exhaled deeply. "Can we please change the topic?"

She saw him nod and posed her next question. "What was Kai-pie doing in Riften?"

Brynjolf shrugged. "Went to see Maven about the Ivarstead man-eater. Apparently, he was tasked with slaying the beast."

"Tasked by whom?"

Brynjolf whistled a specific tune. It was shrill and high pitched; she recognized it immediately.

"Ah, Solitude," Reina nodded knowingly, "So Maven decided to go to the High Queen for assistance after all."

"Yeah… the world's a small place," Brynjolf said lazily. "So, now that you know, have you hatched some sort of evil plan or something?"

"I have, actually." Reina replied with a small smirk. "But let's wait till he finishes his piece of work. Then we'll go Kai-pie fishing! Ha ha!"

Brynjolf shuddered. "I sometimes wonder why I'm so intimidated by my baby sister…"

She gave him a look.

"And then there are times you answer that question very efficiently."

"Good," she said and patted his shoulder. "Now, home please."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Kai**

The sun had just started to rise over the eastern horizon when he decided to sacrifice his bed after a sleepless night. He was a slacker, sure. But no self respecting hunter could hope to sleep after learning that he had been followed by a man eater. So he had gotten up and decided to make some sort of effort to get back at the cat.

He was currently seated in a chair, a small bottle of mead situated on a circular table before him. Across him sat a Redguard, his expression sour. He was not at all pleased by Kai's company and made it known. Kai knew that look; knew it all too well. That was the look people wore every time he asked them for money. Only difference being that he had asked Ennis for a sheep.

"Why should I give you a sheep?"

"There are two methods of plotting to kill a man eater." Kai began his explanation. "The first one is to sit tight and wait for the furball to make a move on its next target. See, the thing is, cats generally don't return to stale carcasses. So waiting by the old corpses to ambush it is a fruitless endeavor; and since I've been paid to kill it before it kills any others, it'd be my ass on the stake if I were to let that happen. So, we're left with the second method, baiting."

Kai paused and used this moment to indulge in the mead which had been offered to him. As he did so, he recalled what Wilhelm had told him about Ennis. Ennis was a former resident of Rorikstead. He moved out of there and into Ivarstead because some idiot had stolen a goat of his and sold it to a Giant. No wonder he's reluctant, Kai thought as he placed the bottle back down onto the table.

"Baiting, as the name suggests, involves tying bait near the last kill site and using that to lure the man eater in. There is a very small chance of the predator falling for the trick, since man eaters never really go back to hunting their usual prey after tasting human blood, but it's a chance I'm willing to take."

He could see that the Redguard was still unconvinced, "Its' kinda like fishing" Kai simplified, "Except there are no fish."

Silence shrouded them awhile. It was only broken when Ennis sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Young man, let me give you a piece of advice," he said rather solemnly. "Go home. You can do nothing here, nobody can. That thing, which people call a cat, is actually a spirit, a Daedra. No mortal has power over it. If it were indeed a being of flesh of blood, do you think that all the hunters who had been commissioned before you would have failed to make even a scratch on it? Do you think anything could move as silently, kill as efficiently as it has and still be considered a being belonging to the mortal plane? You have heard of poor Klimmek's sorry tale, have you not? Do you still doubt my words? Do you not value your life?"

"I appreciate the sentiment." Kai said finally. "But I have been paid to do a job and I will try my level best to fulfill it, no matter how troublesome it is. Make no mistake, it's not remotely supernatural. It's a cat. It's just a bloody cat. Besides," he said as he stood, "if Baknar can wound it, what's stopping me from killing it?"

They held the other's gaze for a few short moments before Ennis heaved a sigh and shook his head. "You have courage, but do not overestimate your abilities, lad. As for the sheep, I have no extra sheep to give you. I will, however, give you a goat. You need not pay me now. Use it as bait. If it should die, you can pay me then. Now if you will excuse me, I must be on my way. My mother is sick and I must go to Rorikstead. I will be back within two days time."

* * *

He cursed his good fortune. Silver linings meant that there was a chance to achieve the objective. And achieving objectives always meant work.

How he hated work.

"Hey mister, you're gonna kill that cat, right? Man, I wish I was like you, ya know, adventurous and all? Life here is so boring! Say, have you ever seen a dragon? Have ya, huh?"

The incessant blabbering of a highly obnoxious twelve year old wasn't helping to achieve said objective, either.

"Yes Lyon. I have seen a dragon." Kai decided to humor him while he secured the goat to a tree with a piece of rope. The goat had a rather healthy bleat. That would prove to be useful while attracting the cat. "A big black pointy scaled thing with red eyes, it was."

"Wow, that is so amazing!" was the boy's reply. His voice was filled with admiration and wonderment. To be fair, had he been in the boy's position, Kai would have acted in much the same way.

"Yeah, very amazing indeed," he replied drily and finished tying up the poor creature. Having done that, he surveyed his handiwork. He had served aboard an Imperial ship for about a year, and as such, had a thing for knots. "Say, don't you have to go home? Your people are probably worried sick about you."

He shrugged, "Nah. They wouldn't miss me. They'd be better off if I never came back."

Kai had no idea how to respond to that one. "I see."

"Hey mister?" the boy began as he started walking back to the village. "What's it like, travelling all over killing stuff? Is it exciting?"

Kai gave the boy a long hard look. The boy, Lyon by name, had become something akin to his unofficial housecarl and stalked him everywhere he went. He was a lad of about twelve; brown hair and lively blue eyes. He wanted to see the world, become an adventurer and a legendary warrior like the Whitestrake, the Hero of Kvatch or more recently, the Dragonborn. He would go on and on about his family, his older sister's love problems, how his father grew lucky cabbages, how he hated the mundane life of Ivarstead, and a whole bunch of other topics Kai had no interest in what so ever. Kai was surprised how he had not lost his temper and thrown the little cretin into the Treva and be done with it. He thought it was probably because Lyon reminded him a lot of himself when he was around that age.

It was at times like these that he mentally praised his old mentor for his patience.

"Hey mister? Mister, mister, mister, mister…"

"What?" Kai snapped and pinched the bridge of his nose in order to bite back his temper. They were on the bridge leading to Ivarstead and it was very tempting to pick up the boy and just throw him as far as he could. But he thought better of it at the last second.

"Why don't you marry my sister?"

How Kai did not trip and plant himself face first into the snow, he would never find out. Maybe there was a God up there that stopped people from tripping and falling upon hearing random bullshit? Somehow, he highly doubted it.

"Think about it!" Lyon went on, elation radiating from his every gesture. "If you marry my sister, you'd be like my real brother! And then you'd have to take me on your every adventure and when you and Fastred make babies, I'll be there to train them and-"

What else he had in store to punish his poor ears even further Kai would also never know because at that precise moment, the infamous sister came up to them, effectively shutting Lyon up by smacking the boy upside the head.

"Lyon, how many times have I told you to not pester the poor man? He has enough on his plate without having to put up with your constant banter."

"We were just talking about him marrying you, sis!" Lyon told his sister, a grin plastered on his face. Fastred blushed slightly and bowed to him. "I am sorry for his behavior. He can be very irritating sometimes."

Kai awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. Don't I know, he thought.

"But Fas – ow! That hurts!"

Kai watched as Fastred led Lyon away by the ear. How that must've hurt. Yet somehow, Kai did not feel even a shred of pity or anything akin to pity for the lad. Shaking his head, Kai made his way to the Inn. There wasn't much he could do now except wait for the cat to take the bait. An unlikely event, but optimism did pay off sometimes. At least, he hoped it would.

* * *

Optimism did indeed pay off.

Waking up the next day, Kai hastened to the goat and found that it had been killed. Of course, it hadn't been eaten. Kai couldn't really blame the cat. A powerful and incessant bleat like that would annoy anybody. Unfortunately, annoying a sabre cat was equivalent to sending an invitation for it to slap the head off of the person in question's shoulders. In this case, it was the goat.

He examined the pug marks littering the snow. A single toe on the rear left paw was injured; folded backwards. That settled things for him. This was the man eater's work and there was hope yet.

Hurrying back to the Vilemyr Inn, Kai gobbled up a hasty breakfast, the contents of which had escaped his memory completely as he ran back up the slope to the kill site.

There were a few things he had to do. Firstly, he had to find himself a tree strong enough to support his weight. Judging from the pugmarks, the cat will most likely come from the direction of the Throat of the World.

The mountain was to his left, that was, due west. Taking the goat's body as the centre, he had Ivarstead to the east. To the north and south was open wilderness. Kai turned and walked backwards, due south. There was an old tree; big, strong. It provided ample cover. He could see without being seen. Perfect.

Picking out a branch about ten feet above the snow, Kai took his seat. He could see the dead goat lying before him. To his left was the mountain. The distance between him and the bait was roughly thirty yards, give or take a few. It was within range. The crossbow had an effective range of about forty yards. In fact, a veteran could shoot a deer about fifty yards away.

Hypothetically, the cat would come down from the west. It should stop and sniff the bait, thereby exposing its side to him. This was the most important thing.

"So what're you gonna do, mister?"

"Holy shit!" Kai swore and almost fell out of the tree. "Lyon! What're you doing here?"

"I followed you. Duh."

Kai loved how he just admitted to an activity such as stalking in such a casual manner as that. But since he was asked, he might as well answer.

"When you attempt an elevated shot, you should always aim for the region where the neck joins the shoulder." Kai said. "That way, you have a chance of piercing the windpipe or the carotid artery of the target; a one shot kill. That's what I hope to do. Happy?"

"But how about when you're on land?" Lyon persisted. "You can't always climb a tree, you know."

"When on land and facing the target, always aim between the eyes; another one shot kill." Kai answered again. "Of course, you'll only get one shot."

"Why?"

"That's because the crossbow is a noisy weapon. If you miss, the target will get spooked and run in case of an elevated shot. If you're on the ground," Kai chuckled drily, "Well, you might wanna throw in a prayer to whatever deity you worship."

Kai propped the crossbow atop his right knee and lined his right eye with the tip of the crossbow bolt. He had a clean shot between two branches. Smiling slightly, Kai jumped down onto the snow.

"Since you're here… and not utterly disgusted by a headless goat," Kai muttered the last part. "Why don't you make yourself useful and go find some black rocks?"

Lyon looked puzzled. "Black rocks? What for?"

"Well, it's troublesome to aim for a snowy sabre cat walking around in a snow covered terrain while visibility is low." Kai confessed. "The black rocks will stand out against the sonwy terrain and if the cat comes, some of the rocks will be shadowed by its body, giving me a better idea as to where to aim."

When Lyon gave him a curious look, he added, "Not saying that I don't trust my vision, no. I just don't want to take any chances."

Lyon's face brightened almost immediately. "On it!" he said and bolted off faster than a rabbit.

"Huh." Kai said aloud. "If that's all it takes to get rid of him, I should just feed him some bullshit information every time he opens his mouth."

It took Lyon about an hour to find six black rocks the size of Kai's closed fist. They scattered them around the bait in a circle and started walking back to Ivarstead. The cat usually came out around dusk. It wasn't even noon then. Kai scratched his head. He had a lot of time to kill.

"Why don't you come over to our house for dinner?" Lyon asked. "I bet you have nothing else to do, huh?"

The fact that he was not pissed off by the lad's smugness pissed Kai off somewhat. But then again, he had eaten nothing till breakfast and if he could skip a meal at the Inn, that would save him a few Septims; Septims he could pocket. He only saw benefits from accepting the boy's proposition.

"Ya know what?" Kai finally said. "I am hungry."

* * *

**Josak**

"Tell me, are ya afraid?"

A choked whimper was all he heard. He grinned. This was always fun.

"You remember what I told you when you were brought into the family, right? In case you've forgotten, allow me to refresh your memory," he slipped his hand around the man's throat while clearing his own dramatically. "I really, really hate incompetence."

With his other hand, he pulled back the assassin's hood. It was an Imperial boy of around seventeen; new recruit who'd lost his nerve and fucked up a contract. Unacceptable.

"All ya hadta do was grab 'em by the throat like this," he grinned. "And squeeze and squeeze until they foam like a dog and then squeeze some more… and their eyes are about to pop out and then you squeeze just a little more…"

A loud snap echoed throughout the hall.

"And then just a quick goodbye," Josak smirked as he let go of the boy's throat and watched his lifeless body slump to the ground. "They don't make necks like they used to… snap too easily. Not satisfying at all."

He turned just in time to see Nazir roll his eyes. The Redguard was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "That's the second one this month. Recruitment is hard enough without you snapping necks left and right."

"Make sure not to recruit virgins then." He grinned, "Babette! Wipe the trash off of the floor."

"Why should I?" the girl hissed from her quarters. "Just because I look like a ten year old child doesn't mean you get to order me around. I'm two hundred and ninety eight years older than you. Show me some respect!"

Josak turned his head to look at the vampire with a smirk. "You're the fucking bloodsucker among us. That gives me all the rights in the world to order you around. Now fucking get to it."

"Such logic," Nazir grinned as Babette went to work, uttering a string of curses under her breath.

"I always was the logical one." Josak occupied a chair and leaned back, resting his boots on the dining table, "I tell ya, these fucking youngsters. They piss me off, ya know? They run away from home and join guilds as if it's some fucking game. They should know that the Brotherhood has high standards… very high fucking standards."

"He was just sixteen…" Nazir argued. He paid no attention to Babette as she dragged the boy away by his heels.

"I had killed seven people at that age, Nazir. Age has nothing to do with it," Josak replied and watched Babette drag away the boy's corpse to her chambers.

Sighing, Nazir sat down on a chair as well. "So now what? Has the Night Mother spoken to you yet?"

Placing his hands behind his head, Josak leaned back further, balancing on the rear two legs of his chair. "Not since the bastard Motierre. Man, that contract was so much fun!"

Nazir scoffed. "That contract destroyed the Brotherhood."

Josak grinned. "So? I spilled royal blood to compensate. I fucking hated the Emperor."

"And why, pray, is that?" Nazir drawled, clearly uninterested. He wondered just where from he would get another recruit.

"Ya see I hate the kinda people who think they can't be harmed, like they're some sorta fucking God." Josak closed his eyes. "They always stay in the sidelines, pulling the strings. They watch as the world around them goes to Oblivion. People like that piss me off. I hate their kind, the cocksuckers. And I love to kill people like that. It doesn't even matter whether they're weak or strong. The people I love to kill are the ones that really get me excited... never see it coming. They're in some happy place where they're sure nothing can get them. Dying is the furthest thing from their minds. Maybe they're thinking about what they're gonna have for dinner. Just like the Emperor was. Right before I walked in."

"Interesting," Nazir replied.

"Of course, there are people that I like too. I love to kill their kind even more." Josak's grin grew wider. "There are two types I like. First, there's the kind that puts their lives on the line and fight. They are a pleasure to kill. The look in their eyes… they fear death, see? They know they can die, and they still fight. Not like the bastards who stay in the shadows."

"And what's the second kind?" Nazir inquired.

"The second kind-" Josak began before his eyes shot open and he sat straight up, bringing the chair down on all fours. "Yes. I see." He grinned. "It'll be done."

"The Night Mother?" Nazir enquired curiously.

Josak nodded. "This one's of the second kind."

The Redguard raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray, is that?"

"The second kind," Josak smirked smugly, "Are the bastards only I can kill."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Josak**

He wasn't new to Riften. In fact, he had to make the trip to the place twice a year in order to renew his contract with Maven. As such, he knew the filthy dump well.

But just because he knew the place didn't mean he had to like it.

"This whole fucking town smells like shit," he swore under his breath. "Something about it bloody pisses me off!"

How the people put up with the stink, he could never tell. The canal circling the city centre smelt of Horker shit mixed with Troll piss with just a pint of Giant sweat. That alone was enough to drive anyone bonkers. Josak mentally praised the durability of the Riften people. These shitheads sure knew how to survive… he wished he could just turn off his olfactory senses like that.

He rounded the marketplace. It was late now and none of the shopkeepers were present, drowning the usually bustling area into an eerie silence. Not that he minded. In fact, he preferred it this way; especially for this particular contract. Usually, he wouldn't give two shits about carrying a contract kill in broad daylight. But killing Grelod the Kind in public just didn't seem… enough. How he wanted to rip her limb from limb… scrub her face against a wall… or better yet, string her up like an effigy and beat the fucking shit out of her… oh, there'd be so much blood! The very thought made him giddy.

As he stopped in front of Honorhall, he couldn't help but grin. The very thought of spilling someone's blood made his own blood boil. It was so damn exciting! He wasn't wearing his usual red and black armor. Instead, he was dressed in light leather armor; kind of like those worn by the Thieves' Guild douches. Maven had very generously given him a set upon his request. The Guild members were scum, but they did have a sense of style.

He expertly climbed the wall and landed on the grassy courtyard, rolling forward to diminish the strain on his knees. He crouched low and waited. He didn't want to wake up the residents. At least, not before he had killed Grelod. There was a door right in front of him. He went up to it; locked, as expected.

Weaving his fingers in the air, he cast a simple Frostbite spell on the rusty lock, effectively freezing it. Pulling his fist back, he threw it at the now frozen lock, breaking it easily in two. Not exactly subtle, but he'd rather die than learn to use one of those damned lockpicks. He examined his bleeding knuckles and smiled. Blood was so damn beautiful. Again, he waited a moment. Breaking ice sounded a lot like breaking glass. It was bound to have woken somebody up. Pressing his ear to the door, he tried to listen for any noise. As expected, there was some murmuring going on. Although he couldn't distinctly make out the words, he knew that these were children. As much as he hated the little bastards, he had a rule. He didn't kill children.

On second thoughts, perhaps he should've learned to use a fucking lockpick after all.

He waited for what seemed like about ten minutes before the murmuring went down, replaced by the sound of soft breathing. He waited another few minutes before pushing open the door and creeping in, silently closing the door behind him. He found himself in a hall of sorts. It had five beds and a fireplace. The beds were occupied by five children, all of whom were fast asleep. His first impulse was to wring their necks just in case but he decided against it.

As silently as he could, he made his way to the other side of the hall and was met with two doors on either side of him, both of which he guessed led to bedrooms; one of which was occupied by Grelod and the other by Constance Michel, Grelod's assistant. Judging from the decorations on one of the doors, he guessed that it was Grelod's. He tried the door and was surprised to find it unlocked.

Strange… something wasn't right. He felt it in his bones.

Ignoring his gut feeling, Josak entered the room.

Nothing could've prepared him for the sight before him. Before he knew it, he was grinning ear to ear.

Blood. There was a pool of blood on the floor, dripping from the bed on which Grelod lay. Approaching the side of the bed, Josak could feel his entire body tingling with excitement and merriment.

Grelod's face had been shaved clean off. There was also a long, deep vertical cut starting from under her chin and ending at her sternum. The murder weapon was a dagger, of that he was certain. But what kind of dagger was this to have cleft off a person's face? He would worry about that at some later time. Right now…

"Wow," Josak began, voice radiating mirth, "Would you look at this? It's unbelievable!"

His voice was rising an octave every word he spoke. He couldn't help it; the sight of blood got him excited like no other.

"Sweet Mother of Sithis in Sovngarde! Why is there so much blood?" he asked nobody in particular as he stood on the puddle of crimson on the floor. "What kind of thing could make such a beautiful mess? Wait! Hold on a second! Could it be… is this lady without a face the woman they call Grelod? Fuck! You're blooming unrecognizable!" He took Grelod's faceless head by the hair and brought it closer to his face for inspection. He then held Grelod by the shoulder and started shaking her violently. "C'mon man! Tell me who did this to you right now! How are we to avenge our contract if you can't talk, much less find your own face! Oh Grelod, you poor, poor faceless bitch! You denied the Brotherhood the simple act of vengeance!"

He then let go of Grelod, and took to dancing a jig on her blood, laughing maniacally. "I CANNOT WAIT TO MEET THE GENIUS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS MASTERPIECE! I'LL TAP DANCE ALL OVER HIS FACE, LIKE I'M A GODDAMN ORC!"

"What is going on? Who's the- Oh Divines! G-Grelod!"

Josak turned to find a younger girl leaning against the doorframe, mouth covered by her hands and muttering incoherent prayers. Annoyed, Josak put his finger to his lips.

"Shh! Keep it down, would ya? I'm tryna concentrate here!"

* * *

**Firo**

"You have disappointed me."

He clenched his jaw, "Yes, milord."

He could hear the others snickering, the bastards. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Orthjolf grinning ear to ear, smug prick as he was.

"You realize that the only reason I am even tolerating your presence is because I think you may still be of some use to me."

"Yes."

"You had been tasked with a simple quest." Harkon's deep voice reverberated along the dining hall. "You were to retrieve an item of interest and bring it back. You failed to do even that, Firo."

"Apologies, milord. I ran into unforeseen… complications."

"Indeed? Pray, do tell me about these… complications."

Firo sucked in a breath, "The Dawnguard, milord."

Murmuring broke out among the Vampires seated at the table. They were soon silenced as Harkon opened his mouth.

"Elaborate."

Though there was no change in his tone, Firo could sense a hint of exasperation in the ancient Vampire's voice.

"I had the Bloodstone Chalice. But I was ambushed by Stalf and Salonia Caelia, both of whom wanted the item for their own interests. They charged at me,and I had no choice but to put them down."

Though Vingalmo maintained a carefully neutral disposition, he could see Orthjolf sigh in relief. He made a mental note to tell Harkon that his two senior court members had their own plans on overthrowing him. That would tone down Orthjolf's arrogance and Vingalmo's… elfishness. That's something he wouldn't miss for the world.

"Go on." Harkon urged, somewhat impatient.

"And that's when they arrived, the Dawngurad." he hissed. "Five of them: a bald Redguard, an Orc, a Breton, a female Nord and a female Bosmer. They wielded crossbows and were equipped with spells mimicking the effect of the Sun. I had no choice but to retreat."

The great hall was drowned in silence as the Lord of the castle stroked his beard, deep in thought.

"These Dawnguard pests are starting to annoy me." Orthjolf broke the silence. "Allow me to crush them, Lord Harkon. They are nothing but a petty nuisance."

"Do not make the mistake of underestimating them, you oaf." Vingalmo spoke out. "Rash decisions never result in any good. We should take our time, study their strengths and weaknesses. After all," he snickered, "We have all the time in the world… time they don't have."

"So what're you suggesting? We stay cooped inside the Castle holding our dicks while the enemy gains ground on us?" Orthjolf bellowed.

'Ever the impatient one,' Firo thought.

"But what of the Chalice?" Garan Marethi voiced his query. "Do you know what became of it, Firo?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I could barely escape with my life."

Silence fell over the dining hall again. Everybody looked to Lord Harkon, their leader, the only person who could shape their course of action.

And he delivered.

"Hmm. It seems that Firo is not at fault in this situation. You may consider yourself pardoned, but keep in mind, do not get used to my act of leniency. You have still disappointed me."

"Thank you, Lord Harkon." Firo muttered under his breath.

"As for the Dawnguard, well, the insects have overstepped their boundaries and need to be reminded of their place."

Puffing out his chest, Orthjolf stepped forward. "Lord Harkon, let me take care of them!"

A cold glare from Harkon sent the Nordic Vampire cowering back to his place. Vingalmo chuckled silently.

"The Dawnguard are mongrels… lesser beings. As such, I do not wish to stain our hands with their blood… and yet," Harkon stood from his throne and started pacing, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "Something must be done. They must be reminded of just what they are dealing with… they must learn the consequences of stepping on my toes. And learn they shall."

Stopping his pacing, Harkon's eyes gazed over the members present at the hall, as if searching for somebody in particular and soon his lips curled into a devious smirk. "Lokil!"

The Nordic Vampire in question hurriedly rose from the table and approached the throne before geeting down on one knee before Harkon, mimicking Firo's posture, "Yes, milord?"

Spreading his arms wide, Harkon addressed his court regally. "These mortals need to be reminded of how weak they truly are… they need to be reminded of their vulnerabilities. And we are going to do just that. We are going to send them a message, make a statement."

He then looked down at Lokil, "Rise, both of you."

As they rose to their full height, Firo glanced at Lokil on his left from the corner of his eye. The man was an old devotee of Harkon and so, it was quite natural for him to have an agenda of his own.

"As I said, I do not wish to stain our hands with unworthy mortal blood. The Dawnguard has to know fear. They must learn to fear the Vampire, fear the Volkihar clan! And so, they will bear witness to our might. We will show them what we can do!" Harkon's charismatic voice boomed throughout the dining hall. Harkon grinned crookedly, sharp canines flashing in the light.

Firo winced. Nothing good ever came of that.

When Harkon concluded his speech, Firo's gut feeling was realized.

"I want you two to raze the Hall of Vigilants to the ground. Leave not a single mortal breathing. That ought to be a strong enough message."

Bowing, Lokil and Firo turned to leave. However, Firo was stopped by Harkon as the latter placed his hand firmly on Firo's right shoulder. Though his grip was like iron, Firo didn't flinch. That didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.

"Try not to fail me again, boy." He heard Harkon hiss.

He didn't have to turn around; he knew that the Vampire Lord's orange eyes were ominously boring into the back of his skull. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, he would attest to that.

Firo nodded. "Yes, father."

* * *

**Omiq**

Cooking was an activity, perhaps the only activity, in which he found absolute peace. It commanded all his attention and kept his mind from wandering off to other, less desirable topics. Like what the undead Nord had told him a few days ago.

Something about blotting out the sun, the unholy bastard had said. Omiq would've laughed it off, but he couldn't. He had seen enough crazy bullshit over the years and had come to accept the fact that weird things happened in this world, no matter how improbable they seemed to be at first. By Arkay's beard, if indeed such a thing was to happen…

He took the previously marinated pieces of the fish and placed it on the pan, allowing it to soak up the oil. He was aiming for a shallow fry. The salt and turmeric marinate added to the scent and Omiq knew then that the end product would taste good.

As he held the metallic utensil over the small fire, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction. He had created something, something good; something he knew people would enjoy. In that moment, he felt stronger than almighty Arkay; he held in his hand the power to make people smile through his food. It was an empowering feeling, if nothing. But then his brows furrowed.

Power. The Vampires would run amok if they could actually achieve that. He still doubted the sincerity behind the immortal old bat's words, and with good reason. Vampires were, by nature, cunning, manipulative and treacherous… exactly like his own kind. The thought curled his lips into a wry smile.

However, this Vampire in particular, Firo, had stated his case with absolute sincerity and a mocking smile. Sincerity, Omiq knew, could be faked. However, Firo would have to be an actor of amazing caliber to have pulled that off.

"He's had centuries of practice, no doubt." He muttered to himself as he shook the pan, allowing the fish to fry evenly. Of course, the part that bothered him was that mocking smile the Vampire wore. It was as if he was trying to say, 'Go ahead. Do what you can.'

Perhaps, there was some truth to it after all. He sighed and stepped away from the small stone stove and placed the now fried fish onto a plate. He would have some digging to do; have to pull a few strings. He prided himself with the astuteness of his information. What would he tell the blokes of the Dawnguard if they suddenly decided to show up on his doorstep now? He would never allow himself to sell information he himself was not sure of.

"Ghorbash!" he called out, "Food, nya!"

"Perfect timing," the Orc said as he appeared indoors, an envelope in hand. "It's for you, from Karthspire."

"Karthspire?" Omiq enquired and took the letter from the Orc's outstretched hand. "Oh, tuck in."

"Don't mind if I do," Ghorbash replied and pulled the plate of fried fish towards himself. "What does it say?"

Omiq sighed as he glanced over the letter. "Some girl died, nya. The village head wants me to bless her grave, give her the rites… things like that, nya."

Ghorbash nodded. This happened fairly often. Omiq, though a Khajiit, was a priest of Arkay to the core. He often got calls to perform burial rites in Solitude and nearby villages, though a request had never come from as far away as Karthspire. "When did she die?"

"This morning, it seems. Cause of death has not been mentioned."

"You gonna take it?"

Omiq sometimes wondered how the Orc could talk so clearly while having his mouth stuffed.

"Yes. Doesn't hurt to earn some extra coin, does it?"

"So when do you leave?" Ghorbash asked again.

"This evening." Omiq replied and finally sat down to eat. He would now suspend all thought regarding other topics and let his senses get bombarded by the fishy goodness.

Karthspire was a good enough place to start, anyway.

* * *

**Kai**

His life had always been a pain.

Kai had to pay Lyon ten Septims to keep the little leech from accompanying him that day. Although there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, he had stood firm on his decision. It was only when he had flashed the gold that the boy had promised to not follow.

Now, as he sat atop his designated branch, Kai couldn't help but feel bad for his poor coin purse. The few Septims he had saved by eating with Lyon's eccentric family were the ones he had used for bribing the boy. Had it not been for Maven paying on his behalf, he wouldn't have been able to afford his room at the Inn, wouldn't have been able to afford his food and most importantly, he wouldn't have been able to afford his mead. In fact, his financial condition was so pathetic that he couldn't even afford a decent set of clothes.

He looked down at the tattered vest and trousers and sighed. He seriously needed a change.

Kai's attention was momentarily diverted by a sudden wetness on the tip of his nose. Flustered, he looked up at the sky visible through the foliage and gnashed his teeth.

"Fuck my luck…"

Clouds had gathered, and by the looks of it, it would pour hard. Of course, he should've prepared for this. Ever since the day he set foot in Ivarstead, the weather had been acting strange. It snowed, yes; rain was probably the worst thing that could happen in this situation however. Hypothermia was a bitch.

As the first few drops fell, Kai considered going back to the inn. Visibility was already low. With the rain coming down, it would become nigh impossible to see two feet in front, let alone aim and fire. But then again, he finally had a chance. A very slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. If he let this one slip away, who knew when, or if, he would get another. He sighed in frustration and tried his best to pull his knees towards his stomach, propping the crossbow on top of his left knee. He knew enough to keep his core temperature warm. If he lost all his body heat on account of the bloody rain, he'd be frozen stiff in a couple of minutes. The chilly gusts of wind weren't much help either.

To put it simply, he was screwed… as usual.

A flash of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating his surroundings and offering Kai some amount of clarity in vision. Not that there was much to look at. He shivered. He did all he could to stop his teeth from chattering… and was rewarded with some success. His shaking body though was a different story entirely.

Kai felt his eyes growing tired as the rumbling thunder numbed his hearing. The sudden urge to just close his eyes and go to sleep was overpowering his senses. It felt like the most natural thing to do. Had he not been chilled to the bone with his core temperature dropping by the second, Kai would have probably advised against taking a nap in the Skyrim rain. Probably.

He forced his eyes to stay open. Minutes felt like hours. Or did hours feel like minutes? He didn't really know, didn't understand and he didn't want to. He tried flexing his fingertips around the crossbow's lever. It was hard. He was barely able to move them. That… was not good.

For a while, he played with the notion that he would die there. Then he smiled and tried to recount the number of times he had had that thought that before. Too many times…

At that moment, he was rewarded with another flash of lightning. This time, he did see something. It was feral, quadruped and fucking massive. It had canines the size of a horse's head and it was bent over the bait.

How long had it been there?

Who gave a damn about that?

Kai tried to bring his face close to the crossbow. It was frustrating. He couldn't even judge the distance clearly. After what felt like a lifetime, he was finally able to line up his eyes with the tip of the bolt. He mentally cursed the cold.

"C'mon… light me up…" he muttered. Even moving his lips was a pain. Usually, he would keep mum in this kind of situation; the reason being that cats had exceptionally good ears. But Kai doubted it could hear his voice over the constant din of the torrential downpour.

His heart was pounding with excitement… which was bad. His body was doing its best to conserve heat. Kai doubted this kind of hammering did anything to help that cause. He took a deep breath and calmed himself, his mind miraculously clear. Instinct, he thought sourly.

It took a few minutes to calm down his stubborn heart. It grew stable, rhythmic, and slow. Kai tightened his fingers around the lever. They were almost numb. Almost. That meant there was life in them yet.

"Work with me, body…"

He hoped the cat was still there. Although, what the Oblivion was it doing with a goat? Man eaters didn't eat goat… and he didn't think it came to sniff. Of course, cats scavenged. Due to the curfew of the villagers, the man eater had been driven to resort to desperate measures. Desperate times, after all.

And then came the lightning.

It lit up his field of vision. The cat was still there, its side exposed to him.

'Never release while excited. Slow your heartbeat, stay calm and fire between the valley of two heartbeats for maximum accuracy.'

That was something his mentor, Kern, used to say when he had been an apprentice so long ago…Of course, Kai had had a lot of practice in doing that.

_Thump. _

Time slowed down in that instant. The light from the lightning was starting to fade. This was his chance. Kai forced my numb fingers inwards, and with the usual report, the bolt flew.

_Thump. _

The valley between two beats; easier said than done.

As usual, the recoil from the shot jerked his body forwards before pushing back at him. It was too much for him to handle in his weakened state and Kai toppled backwards and fell from the branch, landing on the wet snow with a soft thump.

As the rain laid siege to his body, hammering down upon him without remorse, Kai felt his consciousness fading. It was a comfortable feeling. He couldn't complain. Instead, he welcomed it. It was just like falling asleep… except, Kai realized he didn't expect to wake up again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Kai**

"Hey mister, can I touch it? How big was it? How big were its muscles? How big were its teeth? What color was its coat? Is it a Daedra? Is it really dead? Did its breath smell of garlic? Tell me, tell me, tell me…"

Kai swore under his breath. This brat was enough to depreciate anybody's mental health.

"I'll tell you what." He said, plastering a weary grin on his face. "Take off on a run. If you can reach the kill site before us, I'll let you examine the cat to your heart's content. What say you, Lyon?"

He didn't grace them with an answer, instead flashing an ear to ear grin before sprinting.

"Energetic lad, that one," Baknar commented with a chuckle.

"Yeah," Kai replied, "A bit too energetic."

"Should you be moving around?" Baknar asked with his brows raised. "You almost froze to death."

"How long was I out again?"

The Redguard shrugged. "Two days."

"That's all the reason I need to be walking around," Kai replied drily.

Baknar had found him on the snow two days ago. He said it was nothing short of a miracle that Kai was still alive. Had Baknar found him a couple of hours later, Kai wouldn't be having this conversation with him.

While Kai was on his tree, Baknar was on the mountain, tracking deer; a failed endeavor. When the rain came, he was forced to take shelter under a rock outcrop. He had assured Kai that it had not rained for more than an hour.

When the rain had stopped, he stumbled onto the bizarre sight of Kai lying spread-eagle on his back in the snow. Baknar had reasoned that Kai was not daft enough to use the snow for a bed, so that left only one other plausible solution: he must've passed out. Having established aforementioned fact, he had dragged the unconscious and nigh frozen Kai all the way back to Ivarstead where he was bedridden for two days.

Kai had been down with fever; delirious even. Wilhelm said that he had been spewing gibberish all day long. He had to resort to thumping Kai over the head with a broom to put him to sleep.

Lots of healing potions later, Kai finally regained his ability to stand. As soon as he could, the Nord had expressed his desire to see the cat.

Baknar had Kai's right arm draped over his shoulder and his left arm around Kai's torso. The Nord had been too weak to be walking independently, so they had to resort to this. What would've taken him ten minutes took them almost half an hour.

"You sure the thing was dead?" Kai voiced his doubt.

"Positive," Baknar nodded. "I went back and made sure it was."

Kai sighed in relief. "So, how big is it? Did you examine it?"

"I'd say it was roughly nine feet in length. Maybe ten." he shrugged. "As for the examining, I thought that the person who shot it would be better qualified to do it rather than myself."

"Hn," Kai uttered. "Thanks."

He shook his head. "No need. It's common courtesy among us hunters. You would've done the same."

"Hey mister! Baknar! Come on!" Lyon waved at them. "I reached before you two! Now keep your end of the bargain!"

"Yes. Go on." Kai made a shooing motion with his right hand. "Just don't cut yourself on the claws and canines."

Kai had to admit. He had never seen a kid, or anyone for that fact, grin as brightly as Lyon did at that moment. It was downright scary.

By the time Kai and Baknar made our way to the kill site, Lyon was peering into the cat's mouth.

"It doesn't smell like garlic!"

Kai chuckled and sat down on a boulder. Walking had taken its toll on him.

The cat was pretty large, now that he saw it clearly. The snow had countered decay, keeping the corpse rather fresh.

"Why didn't you bring it back to the village?" Kai inquired of Baknar who looked back at him incredulously.

"You expected me to haul three hundred pounds of dead and frozen sabre cat through a mile of snow to Ivarstead?"

"Umm…"

"Exactly."

"Hey mister! I'm done!" Lyon said, flashing another million Septim grin.

"Your turn, I guess." Baknar sighed and occupied the boulder Kai had just gotten up from.

Hobbling his way to the cat, Kai couched beside its head. The bolt he had fired lay embedded in the snow a little distance off. He could clearly see the puncture mark in the cat's throat where the bolt had met skin. The wound had bled, but it had long since clotted. Kai pried open its mouth and examined the teeth.

Odd.

The teeth were frazzled; decayed even. A few were even missing. The gums had gone blackish. This thing was certainly no spring chicken. He examined the claws next. The sharpness was gone. They were dull and had not been used much in recent times.

He felt his gut twist in dread.

Kai got to his feet and made his way to the goat. Part of the stomach had been eaten. That was not good at all.

He clenched his jaw and went back to the cat. Walking up to its rear, he studied the rear left paw.

There was no injury. There were no signs of previous injuries, either.

With a groan, Kai sat back down on the snow. "Goddamn it!"

"Mister? What's the matter?"

"What's wrong?"

Lyon and Baknar asked almost simultaneously.

Kai ran his fingers through his raven hair in desperation. "This isn't the man eater."

Shocked silence followed.

"How can you be so sure?" Baknar was the first to recover.

Kai didn't say a word; only dejectedly pointed to the rear paw. Baknar knelt and studied it minutely before sighing.

"There is no injury."

Kai nodded. "I should've known."

"I don't get it." Lyon looked at him, confused.

"The man eater," Baknar explained, "is supposed to be a six year old female. In sabre cat years, six is about middle aged. Cats live up to fifteen years, maximum. Also, its rear left paw had been injured by an arrow of mine."

"This cat doesn't have an injury. Neither is it young. I'd put this one around twelve or thirteen years of age." Kai said and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Look at its frazzled teeth and claws. Look at its gums. This female has been through the mill. Due to old age, it has lost its hunting assets."

"But why would it invade our man eater's territory? Aren't cats fiercely territorial?" Lyon questioned.

Had it been some other time, he would've commended the boy on his wildlife savvy.

"If you hadn't eaten a square meal in two months, you'd stop giving a fuck too." Kai snapped with some bitterness.

His tone caused Lyon to flinch. "I'm sorry…"

Kai massaged my temples. "No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that." He sighed. "My frustration got the better of me."

Though he nodded, Kai could still see the shock in Lyon's eyes.

"To answer your question," he began, "Yes, cats are fiercely territorial. But since this old female lacked the means to hunt, it took to scavenging. The goat's incessant bleating and its smell proved to be too much of a temptation for the cat to resist." He paused. "And I don't blame it, either."

"Anyway, it's better that it died by your hands than starving to death." Baknar spoke up, trying to lighten the mood. "You saved it from a lot of pain and misery. Death was almost instantaneous."

"I know." Kai said quietly and got to my feet. "Anyway, I'll have to bury it. Will you two help?"

Baknar blinked. "You're going to bury a dead sabre cat?"

He nodded. "After death, it doesn't matter what we were in life: bandits, saints, murderers, priests, hunters and even sabre cats. We're all equal in that sense. I killed it. The least I could do is give it a proper resting place… and bury the goat with it. We'll give it in death that which it yearned in life."

"That… that is so amazing, mister!" Lyon enthusiastically exclaimed. It was almost as if the boy had forgotten all about the little scene a while back. Kai wouldn't complain, though.

Baknar scratched his head. "Never thought about it in that sense…" he said.

Kai clapped him on the shoulder and said smugly. "We learn something new every day, mate. I learnt this particular lesson from a pointy-eared friend of mine some time ago… Right! To work, laddies! The cat ain't comin' back to life and diggin' its own grave."

* * *

**Ondolemar**

Ondolemar shifted in his seat.

Being in the Thalmor Embassy always put him on edge. He was the judge, jury and executioner in nine cases out of ten back in Markarth; he was a 'somebody'. People respected him, feared him and hated him even. In Markarth, he had control. But here, sitting across from First Emissary Elenwen, he knew all too well who exactly was in control.

He allowed his icy gaze to wash over Elenwen, who was currently immersed in reading the report Ondolemar had brought her. It was regarding a theft at the Markarth Treasury House during an event hosted by Thonar Silver-Blood.

Contrary to popular belief, Thonar was nothing more than a whining bitch. He had eaten Ondolemar's ear off about the incident. He said that the stolen item was a precious jewel of sorts. Ondolemar had scoffed. Rocks weren't worth his time. But he had compiled a report and instead of sending it via courier, he had made the long journey himself; getting away from Thonar's constant whining was a very important factor which had determined his current course of action.

"So what do you think, Ondolemar?" Elenwen inquired without even looking at him. "What do you make of this… burglary?"

She said the last word while suppressing a smirk. Was she somehow amused by the whole affair?

"I think it was the Thieves' Guild." Ondolemar shrugged. "Although, what interest they have in shiny rocks is beyond my comprehension."

"And this woman? Reina?"

Ondolemar dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "A fake identity. Members of the Thieves' Guild aren't daft enough to use their real names."

"Hmm… perhaps you're right." Elenwen said softly. "So, you're saying this is not important?"

"If you think otherwise, go ahead and investigate it, Elenwen." Ondolemar leaned back in his chair and tried to relax. "I won't stop you from wasting your time."

He was among the very few people who were allowed to call the First Emissary by her first name. They had worked together for a very long time, so it was no surprise.

"Hn. You're curt as always, Ondolemar. I hope the Forsworn kill you someday soon." Elenwen replied.

"And miss your funeral?" he smirked. "Not for the world."

They were silent a while before smirking at each other. Wishing death upon the other was not a new activity for this particular pair. The interesting thing was that they actually meant what they said.

"So, is that all?" Elenwen asked and flexed her back, eliciting a few cracking noises. "I find it hard to believe that you came all the way from Markarth and asked to see me just for the stolen stone. What is it, really?"

Ondolemar reached inside his robes and brought out a few rolls of parchment. "You know about the agent I placed at the College, I presume?"

"Of course," Elenwen said listlessly and accepted the new gift from Ondolemar. "Aslantar. Or was it Aicaoril?"

"Ancano." Ondolemar corrected his fellow Altmer with a small smirk, apparently pleased with himself upon being able to find a miniscule fault with the First Emissary. "That's his report for the last month."

"Is that so? Kindly summarize it for me, will you?"

Ondolemar's smirk instantaneously vaporized, only to make way for a smirk on Elenwen's face.

_Bitch._ Ondolemar gathered his thoughts and prepared to launch into his speech. "The Collge has recently recruited a bunch of new students: a dumb Nord named Onmund, a crafty Khajiit named J'zargo and a rather clumsy Dunmer. None of them have the ability to become thorns at the side of the Thalmor yet, except the Khajiit. He has the ambition and the drive, also the talent. He might develop into something. Ancano has his eyes on him.

"As for the other faculty members, there is nothing new to report. They are as reclusive, secretive and suspicious as always. Especially the Master wizard, Mirabelle," Ondolemar said with contempt. "She makes it a point to give Ancano a piece of her mind every time they cross paths."

"And what of the Arch-Mage? Aren?" Elenwen enquired as she interlaced her bony fingers and closed her eyes. "He has not caused any problems, yes?"

"Not yet. He does not wish for a confrontation with the Embassy." Ondolemar replied. "However, he isn't the reason I'm here today."

"Oh? And what it is that has your unmentionables in a twist, I wonder."

Ondolemar brushed off the sarcasm. "I am by no means in a temper, Elenwen. Distressed, yes. You would be too, if you knew what I knew." _Or did not know, for that matter._

"Get to the point then." Elenwen urged him. He detected the faintest bits of impatience in her tone, but decided to ignore it. He could not rush such things.

"There is a student at the College named Ivan." He began. "I had asked Ancano to observe him and for the longest time, he has done so. In that time, Ancano has also done quite a bit of digging. And what he has found is… well, I am unsure as to how to describe it."

"Is this it?" Elenwen asked, showing Ondolemar a certain sheet of parchment. "Yes, that is his life history. Look at it. You'll understand what I mean."

And so he waited as Elenwen scrutinized the document. She kept her expression carefully neutral but he knew she was impressed with what she saw.

"Ivan Asarsen. Followed his father on pilgrimages all over Tamriel from childhood, studied magick under him and enrolled in the College of Winterhold at the age of eighteen, rose to the rank of Journeyman within ten months, graduated at the top of his class at the end of the year and became an Evoker. Over the next seven years, he stuck with the College and now holds the rank of Warlock. He also assists the faculty members when it comes to teaching. He's a likely candidate for the rank of Master Wizard."

"Impressive, wouldn't you agree?" Ondolemar interrupted Elenwen who had been reciting from the piece of parchment in a monotone. "Now comes the curious part; his father, Kern, was also a graduate of the College of Winterhold. It can be safely assumed that this boy followed in his father's footsteps and even achieved what his father had achieved. The father, Kern, was a Master Destruction mage, also knowledgeable in the arts of Alteration and Conjuration. He left the College at the age of twenty-eight, ranked Warlock, joined the Legion and took part in the Battle of the Red Ring. Ivan, aged twenty-six, has already achieved that and surpassed his father." Ondolemar paused and let it all sink in. "Alchemy, Destruction, Alteration, Conjuration, Necromancy, Restoration, Illusion, Enchanting… look at all the categories of magic he's studied. Why did he try to study so many? He gets almost to the point of mastery of a discipline and switches to another field, and never looks back again."

Here Ondolemar left his seat and started pacing the room, his arms clasped tightly around his back. "It's… it's as if he throws away everything he's learned like yesterday's trash. He's never shown any passion for anything at all in his life. He has no deep desire, no wish of any kind to be granted. Why would a man like that spend years of his life only in the pursuit of knowledge? Why would he throw his life away and stay cooped up in an old castle when he could make a fortune outside?"

"This matter is certainly interesting, no doubt." Elenwen agreed with a nod. "I shall look into this matter. But tell me, what of his father?"

"Deceased." Ondolemar said with a shrug. "Died two years ago."

"How?"

"Helgen."

They exchanged an understanding look. Elenwen had been at Helgen during the dragon attack two years ago. She had experienced firsthand the carnage that had taken place. Kern Asarsen, strong as he was, had fallen victim to the Nordic God of destruction… along with the residents of a whole village.

"I see." Elenwen replied and succeeded in stopping the traumatic thoughts aroused by Ondolemar's words from infiltrating her mind."Any other living relations?"

"Hmmm?" Ondolemar replied. His attention had been momentarily diverted. "You were saying?"

"Any other living relations?" Elenwen repeated. "Siblings? Cousins? Anything?"

"A foster brother." Ondolemar replied. "After Ancano sent me his communiqué, I had another of my men look into this character. What I found is also included in that report."

"Why don't you tell me. I'm tired of leafing through parchments."

Ondolemar sneered but decided to oblige her… again.

"His name is Kai. He was brought up in Riften's Honorhall orphanage and was adopted by Kern at the age of ten. Ivan was twelve at that time. Kai had no real last name and he refused to adopt his stepfather's. Nothing much could be found about his childhood, but just like his step brother took to magic, he took to the sword. At eighteen, he was serving aboard the Alessia, an Imperial Navy ship. By twenty, he had been transferred to the Legion, serving under Legate Rikke. He rose through the ranks and quickly became Captain at the age of twenty-two."

"I really don't see how he's of any importance, Ondolemar." Elenwen stifled a yawn, clearly bored. "If there is a point to all this, I suggest you make it."

He paused at that, stopping in front of a window. Peering out, he could see it was snowing outside. It was probable that it escalate into a blizzard. He sighed. "Captain Kai served during the Skyrim Civil War. He was deployed to almost all major fronts, especially when the fighting was at its fiercest. It was almost as if he had an obsession with chasing his own death. These were clearly the actions of a man bent on suicide, because he insisted on being dispatched to said fronts." He stopped to regain his breath. "His endless string of battles came to a sudden halt two years ago. He quit the army and virtually vanished from sight. They say he became a hunter, tracker and freelance bounty hunter." Ondolemar paused again, this time for effect. "He has no concept of self interest. His actions are completely disconnected from any thought of risk versus reward. Having said that, I don't think he is just another rogue freelancer simply in it for the money. It just doesn't add up."

"What are you trying to say, Ondolemar?" Elenwen asked. She was starting to feel a bit anxious. Ondolemar did not get this worked up over mere trifles.

"So, I must ask the question: what did he seek in those battles?" Ondolemar said in a loud whisper. It was almost as if he had not heard Elenwen and was merely thinking aloud. "What was he looking for? And what exactly did he find?"

He then turned around and fully faced Elenwen and for the first time in her life, she could see the outright signs of unease in him. The look in his eyes was different, and it sent a cold shiver down her spine.

"You know better than anyone that I like knowing, Elenwen. I like knowing whom to trust or distrust, who is with me and against me, the agendas of various people I'm working with or against. In fact, never have I encountered a situation where I have faced an acute lack of information regarding anyone. You would think that a former Legionnaire and a College mage would have tons of stories, but not these two," Ondolemar finally spoke, his voice wavering. "I can't for the life of me figure out just what these two individuals desire. I have no idea what their objectives are, what their ambitions are. And that… terrifies me."

Elenwen coughed. "You're thinking too much, Ondolemar. Surely, these two Nords can't be so important for you to go out of your way to know every inch of them."

"They are the sons of a person who killed thirty six soldiers of the Dominion with a few choice spells, Elenwen," Ondolemar replied evenly. "Lack of information means one of two things. One, they are incredible good at toeing the line. Two, they are incredibly good at hiding things. If it's the latter and they are hiding plans of say, treason, I want to know. I cannot afford to overlook these things, and neither should you."

The Justiciar fixed the First Emissary with a long stare between bowing and swiftly stalking out of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Omiq**

Omiq shivered. Used as he was to Skyrim's cold, Karthwasten was brutal; especially in this time of the year.

Even so, he placed his paw atop the tombstone and continued. "Blessings of the Nine Divines upon the Imperial, for she was the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved" – he glanced at the name etched on the rock - "Katerina. May Katerina's soul forever tread the path of righteousness and inspire those dear to her to uphold their humanity. In the name of Arkay and His Divine Providence, this one, as His humble servant, bids her farewell on her final departure." With a pause, he added, "Rest in peace."

Sighing, the Khajiit rose to his feet and brought his palms together for a final prayer for the departed girl. He then clapped twice and turned around.

"I must say, it's difficult for me to believe that a Khajiit can act as a priest of Arkay."

Omiq simply smiled. He was used to such observations.

"This one is but a humble servant of Arkay," he said, walking up to the Breton man who had employed his services. "The Breton can believe what he will. It does not change that which is true, nya."

Ainethach stroked his chin and started walking. "So, how much do I owe you?"

"Omiq does not charge for issuing funeral rites, but he is curious about how such a young girl came to meet her end, nya," Omiq said, falling into step beside his employer.

The Breton man walked into his house, Omiq in tow. Offering a chair to the Khajiit, he himself occupied another.

"She was raped," Ainethach said gravely before sighing and shaking his head.

Omiq pulled on his whiskers, his brows furrowed. "This one sees. That was the cause of death, was it?"

"No. the girl took her own life. Couldn't bear the shame of it, I guess."

"How old was she?"

"Seventeen."

Silence fell between the two.

Omiq was the one to break it. "Do you know who did it?"

The Breton snorted. "Are you joking? The whole blasted village knows who did it. It was those Divine forsaken Silver-Blood mercenaries."

"Mercenaries?"

"Yes. I'm one of the few native sons of the Reach that owns land. It doesn't make me very popular."

"Ah. The Breton speaks of the Silver-Blood family of Markarth." Omiq mused, "Why would they send mercenaries, this one wonders, nya."

Ainethach nodded, "The Silver-Bloods want to… _protect_," he spat out the last word, "the Reach from the Forsworn. These thugs have been '_generously_' hired by them to defend the mines. They're trying to intimidate me into selling the mine;they say that nobody can mine from it unless the ownership is settled upon and they've blockaded the mine for that purpose. They know that the townspeople are angry… that's why they've holed up in the mine, the cowardly lowlifes. It's _my _mine, and it is _not_ for sale."

Omiq nodded in understanding. "This one wishes to change the topic. Can the Breton provide a hearth and some food for Omiq? It is nearly evening and this one does not wish to walk all the way back to Solitude."

Ainethach considered this. "I could. But it will cost you."

"How much?"

"Hmm. For a hearth and food, I'd say about fifty Septims."

Omiq chuckled. "The Breton should know better than to rip off Khajiit, but this one accepts the offer."

They were interrupted by a heavy thumping from the direction of the front door.

"We know you're in there, village head. Come out and meet us properly; don't worry, we've only come to negotiate… again."

"Sons of bitches…" Ainethach swore under his breath and got up. Omiq watched as the man strode over to the door and opened it, revealing the so-called mercenaries.

They were a rag-tag bunch from what Omiq could tell; nothing worth losing sleep over.

The leader was another story, though.

The man was clad in full steel plate armor from helm to boot, an axe hanging on his hip.

"There is no negotiating," Ainethach stated, "I want you sellswords out of my mine."

"Watch your tongue, half-blood. We will leave as soon as we are sure that there are no Forsworn here."

"And when will that be, I wonder?" Ainethach crossed his arms over his chest. "When I sell my land to the Silver-Bloods? Or when you've desecrated the purity of another innocent girl?"

"The Silver-Blood's have made you a very generous offer for this pile of dirt. I suggest you take it. As for the girl," the Nord mercenary smirked, "Well, she was at the wrong place at the right time. It gets boring you see, making sure the mine is safe, you know. The boys wanted some entertainment."

"How could you?!"

The leader shrugged. "Not our fault she ended herself. We didn't force her to do that."

"You bastards!" Ainethach cried out, shaking with rage. He was stopped by Omiq who had placed his paw on the Breton's shoulder. "This one believes that there is no reason for conflict at the moment, is there?"

"Who in Oblivion are you?" the leader asked, sounding smug.

Omiq bowed graciously. "This one goes by the name of Omiq, a humble priest of Arkay; at your service, nya."

"Well, aren't you a well mannered ball of fluff," one of the mercenaries said, resulting in the others exploding into a fit of laughter.

"We'll leave for now… just because the cat provided us with some amount of entertainment. We'll be back later, though," the mercenary leader said as he turned and started walking away. "Count on it."

"I hate their lot." Ainethach said once the mercenaries were out of earshot.

"Omiq is inclined to agree with the Breton's sentiments, nya," Omiq replied. "This one also thinks that it would be in Ainethach's best interest to sell the mine, nya."

The Breton's jaw dropped. "Are you suggesting that-"

"Is it worth seeing the people get hurt, nya?"

"I-" Ainethach licked his lips. "You're right… my people come before anything. I should've realized that sooner."

"It is never too late to do the right thing, nya." Omiq smiled. "Now why doesn't the Breton write down a contract? This one shall deliver it himself."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," the mercenary in steel armor looked confused as he went over the deed. "The half-blood decided to sell the mine?"

"So it would seem," Omiq replied, amused. "The Breton has signed. The name of the buyer is left blank. All the mercenary has to do is to go back to Markarth and tell whoever sent him to fill in his or her name."

"You're a priest right?" the man enquired.

"Yes, indeed.."

The Nord chuckled and stuffed the deed inside his hip pouch. "You look like a walking talking sweet roll in those robes, cat."

His comment elicited another wave of laughter from his companions.

Omiq merely chuckled. "This one sees that the mercenaries are amused, nya."

"You can tell?" one of the thugs said in between fits of laughter and threw a coin purse his way. "You're exceptionally bright for a cat bastard! Here, your payment for helping us complete our job"

Omiq laughed aloud after pocketing his payment. "Amusing it is. However, this one has a question for the men."

"Go on. You've earned the right to ask us anything," the leader said. "It's the least we could do after the entertainment you've provided us."

"Did you really rape that girl?"

His sudden change in tone and speech startled the mercenaries. They looked at each other before one of them answered in the affirmative.

Omiq smiled. "I see. Do you know who Arkay is?"

He didn't pause for them to reply.

"Arkay is the God of the Cycle of Birth and Death. As such, I was called upon to deliver the girl her last rites. Do you know what I dislike? It's when people are taken before their time. It's a sad world we live in indeed," Omiq said and pulled back his hood. "You are a bunch of pigs, the lot of you. If you're old enough to fuck, you're old enough to kill. And if you're old enough to kill," he disrobed, allowing his clothes to hit the ground. "You can't complain if someone kills you, now can you?"

Beneath the robes, Omiq was clad in a pair of tan trousers and a blue tunic. Swords hung on either of his hips and he simply smiled at the thugs. "And your time is up."

Before anybody could react, Omiq had swiped at a nearby thug's throat, tearing out his windpipe with his claws. The man grabbed at his throat and fell to the ground in a heap. He wouldn't be getting up.

"Y-You're a priest!" another one shrieked. "You're not allowed to kill!"

"Can't I?" Omiq inspected his now bloodied nails. "Being a priest of Arkay, it is my duty to bring peace to the dead. Of course, I doubt Arkay would mind if I sent a few more souls His way; Him being used to handling untimely death and all that, you know?"

"You son of a bitch!"

Uttering a battle cry, the sellsword cried and charged at Omiq, swinging his steel battleaxe down at him.

"See, the thing with heavy, two handed weapons is that the attack stances are limited; you can only swing it down or sideways, making your moves very easy to read."

The mercenary gulped. Omiq flashed him a grin. The axe had hit the ground and Omiq was doing a handstand on its shaft, his face level with that of the sellsword; albeit upside-down. Folding his elbows, he leapt into the air and landed on his feet behind his attacker.

No sooner had he done so that another came at him, hand cocked back to deliver a punch. Smiling, Omiq arched backwards, letting the fist fly mere inches over his face before straightening. The Nord's momentum had carried him forwards and he was currently off-balance. The one with the axe was not.

He ducked under the horizontal slash of the thug. When the axe had sailed over his head, he leapt off his feet, landing his knee on the Nord's chin. He then jumped at the sellsword and launched himself into a back flip off the man's chest, landing with his palms on either side of another man's head, his legs thrust up into the air; the same guy who had tried to punch him.

"Goodnight," he smiled pleasantly and snapped his neck before landing on his feet.

He saw that only two remained now; the one with the battleaxe and the armor clad leader.

"I guess I'm outnumbered… whatever shall I do?" Omiq wondered aloud. "Oh, I know! I have these swords… perhaps I can use these."

Smiling brightly, he drew both blades gracefully and slowly. The confused looks on the face of the battleaxe wielding mercenary caused him immense pleasure. The expression of the other one he could not read, on account of the helm. He would do something about that very soon.

He himself looked at the blades and took a moment to appreciate their beauty. The blade was long and thin, dual edged, terminating in a sharp point. But that wasn't what was so amazing about the sword; it was the hilt which had caught their attention. The hilts were complex, designed to protect his hand. Rings extended to the sides from the crosspiece. There were also finger rings on either quillon, enabling him to place his index fingers on the ricasso. These rings were covered with metal plates. A fat pommel secured the hilt to the weapon and provided a balance to the long blade.

"It's called a rapier. Cyrodiilic, in case you're curious. It's understandable that you have never before seen anything like this. I don't think there are any smiths who forge rapiers in Skyrim," Omiq said and smirked. "Now then, shall we?"

He could see that the two were cautious; they had no idea how this weapon was used.

_This ought to be fun!_

Then the pig with the battleaxe charged, weapon raised over his head. Omiq crossed his blades and held them over his shoulder, blocking the descent of the two handed weapon.

He then thrust his hands outwards, throwing the man off balance and causing the axe to retrace its trajectory back upwards.

Bringing his arms back, Omiq thrust both blades forward, impaling the man through the neck in an 'X', killing him almost instantly.

Pulling his swords out of the man's throat, he shook the blood off of them. "And then there was only one… hmm, the blades have been nicked. That's what I get for recklessly hard-blocking a battleaxe. Oh well, I'll just have to fix them once I get back…"

He then focused his attention on the armor clad leader. "What's your name?"

"Atar," the Nord answered, his voice trembling. "Now now, no need to do anything rash… I'll leave, I'll leave!"

"Leave? No. You will depart." Omiq smiled gently, "As in, from Nirn."

"What-"

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Nine Divines upon you-"Omiq began, charging at Atar.

"For you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved Atar-"

Omiq sidestepped the wild slash from Atar's axe.

"You who would desecrate this land of the falling snow-"

Feinting with his left, Omiq caused Atar to slash at him.

"In the name of Arkay and his Divine Wrath-"

Omiq parried with his right and launched a riposte; a straight thrust which went cleanly through the gap in Atar's helm and through the man's eye.

"I, as His humble servant, hereby lay waste to thee-"

Pulling out the right blade, Omiq used his left to hit Atar on the chin, causing the helm to fly off his head.

"And expel thy vast defilement!"

He impaled Atar with his right rapier through the hollow beneath the man's chin, the blade cleanly exiting the top of his head. Omiq clicked his tongue. He had skewered the man's tongue in the process.

"Rest in peace, nya."

Omiq pulled out his blade gently and shook the blood off of it before sheathing both rapiers.

"You humans are among the most predictable and interesting things one can ever hope to find," Omiq said as he reached into Atar's pouch and retrieved the deed. "I guess that's why I love your kind so much, nya."

* * *

"The mercenaries have decided to leave."

They were buried deep in the mine, but Ainethach did not need to know that.

From the looks of it, Ainethach could not believe what he was hearing. "How did you manage to do that? Did you pay them off?"

"Omiq is poor Khajiit, he cannot afford such huge sums of money. Of course, where the Nords are, money is not an issue." Omiq smiled as he reached inside his robes and produced the piece of parchment and held it out to Ainethach. "The contract."

The Breton graciously accepted it. "You have done us a great service. I do not know how to thank… what in the name of Oblivion is the meaning of this?"

"This one has taken the liberty of filling in his name, as the Breton must have undoubtedly observed by now." Omiq grinned, interweaving his fingers and resting his chin atop them, his elbows resting on the table. "So, it would seem that this one is currently the owner of Sanuarach Mine, nya."

Ainethach didn't say a word. His lips were pressed into a hard line as he occupied a seat across Omiq.

"Of course, managing a mine, as the Breton will surely agree, is too much of a hassle."

"What are you suggesting?" the man leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

"This one is willing to sell it to the Breton," Omiq smirked. "But it will cost Ainethach."

"You're going to sell us our own land?" Ainetahch gnashed his teeth. "How much?"

"If you wish to get something, you have to pay the price, or so the saying goes." Omiq said, a smirk still etched across his features. "Well, to my untrained eye, the value of the mine and all the silver it contains lumped together," he paused for dramatic effect, "Equals the price of a hearth and a meal at Ainethach's place. Is that reasonable?"

For a moment Ainethach forgot to breathe. Then he burst into laughter. "You're right! That is expensive! Bought!"

Omiq grinned. "Sold."

* * *

**Kai**

Another week had passed without incident. News spread fast in a town as small as Ivarstead, especially news of failure. Some villagers applauded Kai's effort, some sympathized with his failure and some others had warned him of his recklessness.

The amount of glares he received from the Ivarstead guards went up several notches. Kai couldn't blame them, really. They were helpless in the current situation. On top of that, his failure in ending the menace that was terrorizing their town didn't fly well with them either. In the end, they were just as frustrated as he was… probably more.

He had paid Ennis back. The news of a member of his herd being mauled by a cat didn't particularly bother him. If it did, he didn't let it show. However, he had taken that opportunity to lecture Kai about how the cat was impossible to kill and if he continued to pursue it, it would result in his untimely end.

Kai had dismissed it with a shrug. People always had something to say.

He had also sent a report to Falk in Solitude regarding his subsequent lack of progress. He hadn't received a reply and quite frankly he didn't expect one, either.

The Nord had regained most of his health during the previous week and had started his tracking efforts again. He had returned from such an outing and had just crossed the threshold of the Inn when he heard Wilhelm call out his name.

It was quite late, probably three hours after sunset. Curiously, he wondered what he was needed for.

"What?" Kai replied, startled.

"Courier." Wilhelm replied and pointed to a scrawny looking Imperial boy of about fifteen. The boy had curly brown hair and keen black eyes. Those eyes somehow reminded Kai of a skeever.

"Read it aloud," he told the boy and occupied a barstool. Kai was in no mood to read one of Falk's speeches about efficiency and responsibility.

Nodding, the boy unfolded the piece of parchment and read out its contents in a carefully emotionless voice.

"A resident of our village, Treva's Watch, has been taken by the man eater about an hour ago. Immediate assistance is requested. Please come as soon as you can."

* * *

**A/N: Omiq's swords are based on the early rapier. It's more of a predecessor to the rapier, actually. I used the word rapier here because people can visualize what that is with much more ease and clarity as compared to 'Spada da lato' or 'Espada ropera' or what have you. You can always Google those two terms if you're curious.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Firo**

He wasn't a big fan of the smell of blood and flesh. It made his nose twitch in a funny way… a nuisance, if anything.

Maybe he was allergic to it? If indeed that was the case, it was a funny thing to be allergic to.

Now that he thought about it, there were many things he liked and disliked. That much he had in common with the mortal sheep his kind fed upon.

The sight of the Hall of Vigilants being reduced to ruins definitely came under the category of dislikes.

He wondered why that was. His kind was supposed to thrive upon death and blood. Their kind was supposed to be the Kings of the Undead. Was it so unusual for him to dislike such things? Who knew? Maybe he was a bad vampire.

The Vigilants had put up quite a fight. They had managed to kill all of their Death Hounds and lower level grunts. For a while, they were not only holding their own, but pushing them back. Beings that were able to fight that hard deserved a chance to live, did they not?

But then Lokil transformed and tore through the Vigilants. It became one-sided after that. It was also at this time that Firo excused himself from the skirmish. He had done his fair share of killing for the night.

He looked on as Lokil searched for survivors, snapping the necks of anybody who even moved an inch before feeding on them.

Firo grimaced. He didn't like the way Lokil fed upon the humans… it was undignified. Of course, most of the members of his father's court ate like pigs… all except Marethi. He was the epitome of vampiric etiquette. A proper vampire, if anything like that even existed.

"What're you doing standing there all statue-like, boy?" he heard Lokil call out to him. "Search for survivors. You heard the Lord's orders; we're to leave not a single one breathing."

Firo scowled. He had heard his father, alright. He could do without Lokil ordering him about like he was a new-blood.

Sighing, Firo stepped into the Hall, or whatever remained of it. He took a few steps in Lokil's direction before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

Turning his head to the left, he was subject to a rather… amusing sight.

A man was struggling with a wooden beam which had fallen over his left shin, pinning him to the floor. He was trying to push it off his leg with all his might but it was proving to be too challenging for the mortal.

Yet, that didn't deter him from trying.

He wondered why that was. Why would the humans give it their all to try and counter a situation in which they were doomed to fail or die? Why struggle at all? Why not embrace death when you know you can't escape it? Everyone dies one day or another.

He shook his head; humans were strange.

He looked back at the man who had by now noticed him as well. Firo saw the last dregs of color leave the man's face; he had realized the danger he was in.

In other words, he had just seen his hope run out.

Hope. Is that why the mortals struggle, because they have hope?

But what happens when one loses hope? Does one lose the will to survive when all hope is lost?

Would it be wrong to say that people learn to accept death when they lose the will to live? So by extension, people die mentally when hope is lost?

What an interesting illusion this hope thing was, indeed.

Ignoring the trapped man, Firo walked towards Lokil and called out his name.

"Hmm?" Lokil replied, his mouth stuffed with what looked suspiciously like a man's liver.

_Disgusting_. Firo scowled and looked straight into the other vampire's eyes.

For a moment, Lokil stared back. Then his eyes glazed over, giving him a distant look. Then they rolled to the top of his head and he fell flat on his back, limbs outstretched.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Firo walked back to the human. The only reason Lokil hadn't been able to sniff the man out was because the whole damn place smelt of flesh; not even he could single out a human through the sense of smell.

"If you're going to kill me, just go ahead an-"

Firo lifted the wooden construct with his right hand and flung it away a couple of meters. He then knelt and cast a healing spell, keeping his palms hovering over the injured appendage.

"What're you doing?" the man asked suspiciously.

Firo glanced at the Vigilant. He was a Nord, bald except for a wreath of hair on the back of his head.

"You know," Firo began, "It's polite to name yourself first."

The man was visibly startled. "I-"

"Name's Firo." He introduced himself and disengaged the Restoration spell. "Try flexing the muscles. They should be healed."

The man did. Despite himself, Firo smiled when he saw the look of wonderment cross the man's face. But then the smile disappeared as quickly as it came. Rising to his feet, he held out his hand. "Can you stand?"

Ignoring his offer, the man stumbled to his feet on his own. "Why did you help me, vampire?"

_Nordic pride_. Firo sighed out of his nostrils. "Look, I cast an illusion on the other one. It'll only last for a minute, so there's no time for chit-chat. You know Stendarr's Beacon, yes?" He didn't wait for the man to respond, "North of Stendarr's Beacon is a place called Dayspring Canyon. There's a path on the left which will lead up a hill and to the entrance of Fort Dawnguard. Go to them. Tell them what happened here tonight. They'll offer you protection."

He could clearly see that the man was unconvinced. But he nodded anyway and picked up an iron war hammer lying on the ground a few feet away.

'He probably sees this as an opportunity to escape,' Firo thought. 'It'd be foolish if he didn't take it.'

"Oh, and vampire," the man said, bringing him out of his thoughts. "My name is Tolan."

He then bolted like a rabbit being chased by Death Hounds… probably faster.

"Ugh… my head hurts like crazy… what happened to me?"

Firo turned around and saw Lokil sitting up, massaging his temples. 'Just one minute,' he thought.

"A surviving Vigilant surprised you with a hammer shot to the back of your head; knocked you out. Don't worry, he's been dealt with." Firo said and pointed at a random body. "Be more careful next time."

"Oh yeah… I remember now." Lokil said slowly, disoriented. "And I also remember something else."

"And what might that be?"

"See, when I was feeding on the mortals, I absorbed their memories too… there was this one woman, Carcette by name. I found something interesting in her memories."

Firo crossed his arms over his chest, his expression carefully neutral. "Go on."

"The Vigilants were investigating some sort of a vampiric artifact. I don't know what it is, but it sounded like the thing was pretty important. Maybe it can help the Lord achieve his plans?"

"Is that all?"

"By no means," Lokil replied. "I don't know what it was, but I was able to determine its location."

Firo tapped his foot on the floor, urging Lokil to continue.

"I absorbed a lot of memories so they all got mixed up."

"Great…" Firo muttered.

"But I did catch the name of the site."

Firo snapped back to attention. "Well?"

"It was called Dimhollow." Lokil said, "Dimhollow Crypt."

* * *

**Josak**

"Live or die, kid," the boy heard the man chuckle. "It's your choice."

His throat was dry. He couldn't speak even if he wanted to.

The blade pressed against his windpipe wasn't encouraging speech, either.

"I guess you didn't understand what I just said, so I am going to repeat myself because I'm a nice person like that." Another chuckle. "You get to choose whether you want to live or die tonight, kid. Isn't that great? Not many people get this chance."

He tilted his head to the left slightly, so as to see beyond the man standing in front of him, blocking his line of sight.

He saw blood. He saw bodies. He gulped.

The boy had made his decision.

* * *

Josak woke to the sound of rain. His windowless cell didn't allow him to look outside. But the constant, rhythmic patter of rain against the wall acted like a lullaby for him. No wonder he had drifted off to sleep…

Dressed in rags, the Nord lazily rolled over onto his side on the floor. His leathers had been taken from him, which wasn't much of a surprise. He had been mistaken for a common thug. At least he wasn't wearing his Dark Brotherhood attire… it would've been a fiasco then.

How long had it been? A week? A few weeks? Who knew? There was no way to keep track of time while you were in prison. It wasn't like the guards would tell him. Letting prisoners know the duration of their stay was not particularly high on their list of priorities.

He chuckled. Somebody had set him up. Fortunately for him, he knew who could point him in the right direction. Unfortunately for him, he was to be executed in a few hours.

The thought amused him. The Listener of the Dark Brotherhood was to be beheaded for a murder he did not even commit. How quaint! But the fact that somebody had stolen a contract – _his_ contract – and did a bloody good job of it too, got him excited.

He had to find this man. He had to kill him with his own hands. Until he did so, he refused to die.

Of course, now that he thought about it, there was another person he had promised to kill…

His thoughts were interrupted when the door of his cell was pushed open with a loud clang. He didn't see the guards enter since his back was turned to the door, but he sure felt them when one of the guards kicked him in the calf.

"Up! Up with ya," the guard barked roughly before hauling him to his feet by the arm. "I said GET UP!"

Pulling his hands behind his back, they promptly shackled his wrists. Josak didn't protest. He knew when to fight and when to submit.

"Walk," the guard ordered, shoving Josak forward. He merely grinned and complied. There wasn't much he could do, anyway.

The guards escorted him outside the jailhouse. Josak momentarily squinted as the rain peppered his face.

"Keep walking, murderer." The guard shoved again before chuckling. "It's the axe-man for you."

"You said," Josak began, trying to stifle a laugh, "that there'd be a trial."

The guard guffawed. "Murderers don't get trials, scum. You killed a respected and well loved citizen of Riften. You're lucky they didn't chop off your head on the spot."

Respected and well loved. Pfft.

"You know as well as I that I had no weapons on me," Josak smirked.

"Word is that Grelod the Kind was choked to death by your bare hands."

"Is that right?" Josak mused as he let himself be herded to the city centre where a makeshift platform had been erected just for him. He was attending his own execution! And all the guards and citizens had decided to disregard the rain just to watch his head roll! Was he that special? The very thought made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

As he was led up the ramp and on to the pedestal, he saw that a blonde Nord woman clad in Iron armor and blue war paint covering half of her face was delivering a speech about righteousness and justice. Of course, he let his thoughts wander.

The main reason why Maven had agreed to the public misinformation was because she didn't want to scare people away from her hold capital. That much Josak was certain of. Had people come to know about the actual facts regarding the murder, there would panic; Maven wouldn't want that. She wanted her people to live under a false sense of security. She wanted Riften to prosper, so that wealthy people would come here and the Guild would relieve them of their heavy purses.

Josak smirked. If he was right in his conjecture, and something told him that he was, he was on his own.

"That foxy bitch…" he muttered under his breath.

"What darkness or madness instigated so vile an act, we don't know. Do you have anything to say in your defense, scum?"

Josak blinked. The Nord woman was looking at him, as though asking him to speak.

"Not really," he began with a wide grin. "I'm not dying today."

He could've sworn he heard the woman snarl. "You dare show defiance is spite of your crimes?"

"Defiance? Nah." His grin grew wider. "See, I just can't imagine myself dying. I'm uncreative like that."

"Well why don't I let the axe-man chop off your head? We can imagine that just fine and I'm sure we'd appreciate seeing the real thing," the blonde said and turned away from him to address the crowd.

And that's when he acted.

Taking a step forward, he jumped and folded his knees, bringing his legs over his manacled hands. Now that he had his hands before him, he slipped them over the Nord woman's head, neatly placing the chain around her throat and pulled slightly, grinning as he heard the woman cough as the links dug against her windpipe.

"See, I have a confession," he whispered into the woman's ear. "My favorite pastime is waking up idealistic people like you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the axe-man coming at him, lifting the giant weapon over his head. Grinning, he removed his hands from around the woman's neck and kicked her in the back, sending her tumbling forward. He then spun on his heels, facing the charging executioner. Stepping out of range of the giant axe, he lifted his manacled hands and grinned as the blade cleft the chain cleanly: he was free.

He paid back the executioner with a right hook. Reeling from the impact, the man's helm flew off of his head; he was clearly staggered.

"You don't have any power or technique like Rufrius Vinicius, or Movarth Piquine."

Straight left to the nose.

"You know any of the old Fighters Guild legends?"

Right uppercut to the chin.

"You know 'em, right? If you're a fighter, you damn well should know!"

Left hook under the ear.

"If you say you don't know, or something, I won't forgive you! I will never forgive you!"

Straight right to the eye.

"And even if you _do _know them-"

Left jab to the mouth.

"- I still won't forgive you!"

With a huge ear to ear grin, he leveled the large Nord with a right hook. The man lost his balance and slumped against a wooden pole. Josak planted his right foot on the man's chest, pinning him to the pole.

"You still conscious, buddy?" he asked, sounding concerned. "I guess I need to work on my right hook then… no matter."

As he removed his moved his foot, he smiled satisfactorily as the man slumped down on the wooden platform. Without looking back, he stepped to his left, avoiding a forward thrust by the blonde Nord. "Are all the women in Riften like this?" he grinned wildly. "You've got pretty classy moves for a city girl!"

The Nord woman grunted and charged again, bringing her sword up diagonally from the left. Josak stepped back, outside the arc of the swing. But to his surprise, the woman used the momentum of her previous swing and spun on the balls of her left foot, launching another horizontal slash. The tip of the blade tore through Josak's rags, leaving a cut along his stomach. Luckily for him, it wasn't deep.

But the sight of his own blood excited him. "I love the kind of woman that can kick my ass!"

"Shut up you piece of shit!" the woman snapped and charged again, uttering a battle cry.

Josak didn't have room to step back. He was already at the edge of the platform. He didn't plan on falling ten feet to the Riften streets. So he did the only thing he could.

He sidestepped to his left as the woman thrust her blade at his chest. He watched as the woman's momentum carried her forward. She desperately tried to slow down, and it looked like she wouldn't fall off the edge… had Josak not stuck his foot out.

The woman tripped and fell onto the street below. Josak didn't wait around to see what happened to her.

Turning around, he ran.

He ran past the Scorched Hammer, over the Dock Gate and straight into Lake Honrich. The cold water almost forced the breath out of his lungs, but he swam to the opposite shore, casting a small healing spell on himself. He grinned as he felt the warmth spread through his body.

He was unsurprised when he saw the guards had not given chase. Maybe Maven Black-Briar wasn't as big a bitch he thought she was…

Calming his nerves, he concentrated on the image forming in his mind and closed his eyes. Letting out a breath, he mentally uttered a single word, 'Shadowmere.'

When he opened his eyes, he was met with the familiar sight of the black stallion looking straight at him.

Grinning, Josak reached out and petted his steed. "Did ya miss me, boy?"

In response, the horse nudged Josak's chest affectionately with his head.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Josak said and hoisted himself atop the horse's saddle. Taking a firm hold of Shadowmere's reins, he kicked the horse's hindquarters.

The stallion neighed and reared before taking off at a gallop. As the scenery around him flew by at blinding speeds, Josak made a mental note of what he needed: food, water and clothes. He wouldn't be able to reach Dawnstar without supplies. Fast as Shadowmere was, he couldn't fly. It'd take him about a day and a half to reach the Sanctuary. He doubted he'd be able to last without food and water for that long; he'd already been starved at Riften jail.

He'd have to go to a town, get some rations… and mead. A lot of mead. It was pretty risky, but then again, you couldn't get by without taking a risk in his line of work.

Having come to a conclusion, Josak steered his steed in the direction of the nearest town.

Ivarstead.

* * *

**Kai**

Contrary to public opinion, the Treva wasn't exactly a river. It was a strait, a strip of water connecting Lake Honrich and Lake Geir. Places like Ivarstead, Treva's Watch, Sarethi Farm, Heartwood Mill, etcetera were all built on its banks.

Treva's Watch was no exception.

Initially, Treva's Watch had been a lone fort, inhabited by bandits and later, Legionnaires. It had been a crucial win for the Legion and later proved to be of immense importance when the army took Riften from the Stormcloaks. After that, a small settlement had sprung up at the foot of the fort.

There are hardly a dozen houses. No inns, unfortunately.

It took Kai two and a half hours to reach the village. He didn't really know what to expect.

The victim was the wife of a farmer. The woman was three months pregnant and sick; probably with the flu. The couple supped and turned in for the night at about seven. As such, the husband had allowed her to occupy the bed while he slept in a bed roll on the floor. The wife complained that their home was getting too stuffy and asked the husband to partially open the lone window. This window was situated near the bed and thus would've offered some fresh air. The husband was a light sleeper, and having heard the rumors, he had kept the door and window bolted. However, upon his wife's request, he had relented and opened the window.

Not that it would've done much good, Kai caught himself thinking. A sabre cat could have easily rammed through a wooden door.

But that's not what had happened.

The cat had leapt through the window. There were no signs or scratch marks on the door which could've suggested that it had tried to force it open. The window, though large enough to accommodate a fully grown sabre cat, was the only means of entry other than the door.

Kai had a hard time believing this. But it was the most probable theory… however improbable it seem.

He accepted, for argument's sake, that the beast had indeed come by the window. It should have landed somewhere near the bed.

So he went and examined the wooden floor. There were subtle scratch marks, probably caused on landing. In addition to that there were a few strands of grayish-white fur on the windowsill.

"Huh." Kai muttered. "I guess it was a tight fit…"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Upon entering, the cat had immediately gone for the woman. She wouldn't have been able to make a sound. Having neutralized her, the cat would've sought to exit the place… through the window.

Kai knew cats were strong. They had been known to haul a full grown elk for miles and miles. But to lift a woman completely off the ground and jump out of a window roughly five and a half feet above the floor while holding aforementioned woman in its mouth?

What in Oblivion was he dealing with?

The husband said that he had woken to the sounds of scraping. He sat up and saw the cat leaping out of the window. He swore by all the Aedra and Daedra that he had indeed seen the thing perform the feat.

The scene stunned him. He then noticed the absence of his wife. He got up and checked the bed. As expected, the sheets were drenched in blood.

It was only then that he had raised the alarm.

"You didn't bother tracking it, did you?" Kai asked the husband upon finishing his examination of the room. The man was sitting on the floor, face in his hands. He shook his head.

"What good would it have done?" he said, his voice barely audible. "My wife was already dead. Why would I sacrifice my life for a dead person?"

Kai clenched his jaw. Cold, hard logic. Heartless as it was, he was right. There was no point in doing anything.

Same thing applied to the battlefield. Nobody wasted time over a fallen comrade. You didn't bother with them unless they were injured, in which case they could still be saved.

However, it looked as if he was mourning the death of his unborn child more than that of his wife…

Shaking off such thoughts, Kai walked out of the hut. It was a cloudy night. The moons were obscured completely.

"Tsk." he clicked his tongue, frustrated.

He had been sent there to kill the cat before it killed anyone else… and the blasted beast had done just that. Though it was a petty sentiment, it had injured his pride as a hunter.

Kai tried telling himself that he couldn't possibly have done anything to prevent this from happening. Needless to say, it didn't help. He wisely decided to focus on the here and now.

As is, it would be hard for him to navigate in the dark. Common sense told him to wait for daybreak.

On the contrary, he couldn't recall a single incident where he had ever done anything even remotely logical, and that settled things for him.

Having made up his mind, Kai made his way to the victim's hut and knelt outside the window and smiled bitterly upon finding what he was looking for.

Blood on snow was pretty hard to miss, and by the looks of it, he had a trail he could follow. Now if only the moons decided not to show their mugs, he'd be overjoyed.

It took a good few minutes for human eyes to adjust to the darkness. Even so, they couldn't see as well as nocturnal predators, but human eyes could mimic those of owls or dogs closely enough. So, having one's eyes accustomed to the dark and then suddenly having their field of vision illuminated disengages the night vision. On top of that, it wasn't a good idea to move one's head around too much and instead use peripheral vision.

Ever since he was a lad of ten, Kai had spent more nights out in the open than he did in a bed, so this kind of outing was second nature to him. He reminisced the night, so long ago, that his stepfather had taken him on a similar expedition during night time.

'While attempting to track a predator in the dark, you need to keep a few things in mind. Firstly, just because you can't see or hear or smell it, doesn't mean your target can't do the same. The first lesson of being a successful trapper is to make sure you cover your tracks.'

'But what about smell?' a twelve year old Kai had asked. 'How can I cover my scent?'

'Oh don't worry about that,' his master had replied. 'Cat's can't smell. They make up for it with their spectacular senses of vision and hearing.

'The second thing one must keep in mind is that man eaters are smart. Those things are most likely to hide and wait. When you pass them by, they jump you. Literally. So while tracking, you have to watch out for possible hiding places. Then you can proceed to avoid or investigate them; whatever takes your fancy.

'And on top of all that, you have to watch where your foot lands. A single noise created by stepping on a twig or dried leaves is enough to alert the entire wilderness of your presence.' Then he had chuckled and ruffled Kai's hair. 'Trust me when I say this, you wouldn't want that kind of attention.'

He missed that old bastard…

Kai then quickly refocused his thoughts on the task at hand.

Taking into consideration the fact that the kill had been made about two and a half hours ago, the beast was most likely a few miles away, so there was no need for him to be overly cautious yet.

Still, one could never be too careful.

All in all, his progress was slow. The trail of blood wasn't constant, unfortunately. There was a puddle here and a puddle there and a few drops in between. The cat hadn't dragged the body along the ground; it had kept it in its mouth, suspending it in the air.

Just how strong was this thing?

Kai would stop every time there were noises. Anything from snapping twigs to rustling leaves to hooting owls to barking deer… everything had its own language. He found it remarkable how the forest had its own way of telling you stories or singing you songs… but only for those who cared to listen.

A few hours into his journey, he heard a stag. The noise came from his left. Kai stopped and strained his ears.

It wasn't a distress call, nor was it a death scream. Its tone was careful, not filled with fear… as if it was warning the denizens of the forests to be wary.

It was most likely telling the others that it had seen a predator.

And Kai had a very good idea regarding who this predator might be.

He decided to wait a few moments… and was rewarded. The deer's call was answered by an owl. Then the owl kept hooting at regular intervals for a few minutes. Then it all went quiet.

In forests all over the world, terrestrial animals shared a very unique relationship with their aerial and arboreal neighbors. Whenever one spotted a predator, it would let the other know. The other one then spread the news far and wide. Why they did this, he couldn't tell. Maybe they acted as vigilantes? Who knew?

Kai tightened his grip on the crossbow and resumed walking. He was getting close; he could feel it in his bones.

From what he could tell, he was near the foot of the Throat of the World. The darn thing had led him right back to Ivarstead.

Having approached it from south-east, the small town was probably a mile or two to the north.

And then it hit him like an Orc's fist.

All the bodies… they had all been found in the vicinity of the mountain… near its foot to be exact. Was that a pattern? No, that couldn't be. Cats were smart, but not that smart. Patterns were something serial killers did. They wanted to leave their mark or something and each of them had their own special signature.

So that left one other alternative. The cat had its home somewhere up on the mountain. Kai had hypothesized this the day he had arrived and now he had received his confirmation.

He paused before a large puddle of blood. It had most likely stopped there. But what for? Was it lying here? As in, lying in wait?

If indeed that was the case, then what was it waiting for?

He shook his head and pushed on… and found his answer.

On the snow, there were hoof tracks. Somebody had passed by here on horseback.

There were also deer tracks littering the snow. Kai scratched his head.

Whoever had passed by here had spooked a herd. That resulted in the stag calling out. The cat must have heard it and went on guard, lying in wait for whatever danger was coming to pass.

It made sense, in a way. The hunter sighed and pressed forward.

It was about a quarter of an hour after sunrise that he finally found the body. It lay hidden under a rock outcrop. If he hadn't followed the blood trail and knew what he was looking for, Kai wouldn't have been able to spot it. His prey had even gone through the trouble of covering the body with leaves and twigs. Which was good. It meant that the cat was planning on returning here. Kai looked around for a tree, but unfortunately there weren't any that met the requirements. Granted, he could get a clear shot from atop the outcrop.

As expected, the culprit was nowhere in the near vicinity. The woman's torso and upper body had been eaten, along with bits and pieces of the legs. The bite marks on the legs were considerably smaller… most likely the work of a fox.

Kai frowned. This was one daring fox… had it scavenged from all the previous kills?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden growling of his stomach.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast yesterday… he had forgotten all about food with all the shit going on.

Silencing his rebellious tummy with a hard glare, Kai decided that the wisest course of action would be to simply head back to the inn.

Food and sleep were at the top of his list of priorities at the moment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Josak**

"Congratulations," the man said as he sheathed his blade. "You've chosen to live. Trust me when I say this, dying ain't fun at all. I'd say your choice was a good one."

Then he heard the man sigh. "This blows, you know? As a rule, I don't kill women with children. Guess we were misinformed…"

The boy gulped. Who was this person? How could he be so calm after killing a couple of people?

"Oi, what're you looking at?"

The boy turned away… words failed him. It was not like he could have seen anything anyway. The man was clad in some sort of black and red uniform, complete with a hood and a face mask.

"Oh, I guess you're curious, huh?" he heard the man laugh, "Very well. Since your nerves have held, I'd say you've deserved a peek."

With that, the person pulled back the hood and pulled down the face mask.

The boy gasped. He was actually a she! The woman standing before her had a sensitive feminine face and platinum blonde hair.

He saw her grin. "So, you like what you see huh, kid?"

He didn't know what to say to that. This woman was around twenty at most. Was she really an assassin? A real, _actual_ assassin?

"Name's Astrid, kid. You got one of those?"

"I-" he stuttered, "Manfredo."

"Manfredo? What kinda name is Manfredo? Manfredo's no name for an assassin… sounds like a mudcrab," the woman stroked her chin. "Right. I hereby christen thee… Josak. How 'bout it, kid? Ya like it?"

Did this woman just rename him? And why was she being all playful about it?

"Anyway, Josak. You've chosen to live. In other words, you've chosen to survive, right?"

"Y-Yes…"

"Good. But if you're gonna live, you'll wanna know how you're gonna do it. What are you, six?"

"I'm seven."

"Cute," the woman giggled. "Kid, I'm gonna teach you how to kill."

The boy promptly fainted.

* * *

Josak lifted his head off the countertop and yawned. He then craned his neck and looked around. Had he fallen asleep on a barstool? Well, he wouldn't put it past himself.

"Slept well?"

"Pretty much," Josak replied with a grin to the barkeep's question. Wilhelm was his name, if memory served him correctly.

"Food?"

"Please," Josak said before frowning. "I have no money on me, though."

"Lad, I've been at this job fer a long, long time. I know when I see a broke," the barkeep guffawed. "Besides, I think you deserve a little something after chopping up all that firewood."

"That's a handy skill you've got there."

Wilhelm shrugged and placed a plate containing a slice of bread and some cheese in front of him. "Dig in. Ye look like shite. Haven't eaten in a while, eh?"

"You have no idea." Josak grinned and took a bite.

Wilhelm sat across from him. "Would ye mind tellin' me just what in Oblivion ye were doin' wanderin' about town in the middle of the night?"

"I was looking for a place to stay the night." Josak offered a small smile. "It's tough when you quit your apprenticeship and run away… you have nowhere to go but home."

From the looks of it, the barkeep had bought his fib. Josak removed a lock of orange hair from his face. He really needed to cut his hair one of these days…

"Poor you… ye got the build of a warrior, though. Ever tried bein' a mercenary? It might suit ya."

"Too much violence," Josak cringed. "I hate violence."

"Aye, that be true." Wilhelm nodded. "Still, ye got guts, lad. Wanderin' around in the dark… have ye not heard of the man eater?"

This got Josak's attention. "What man eater?"

"There's been a man eatin' Sabre Cat that's been terroizin' this part of the woods fer a while now… been 'bout eleven months, methinks. Bad for business, I tell ya," Wilhelm said with a shake of his head.

"Hasn't anyone tried killing it?" Josak asked, finishing his slice of cheese.

"Aye, that they 'ave. Failures, the lot of 'em," the man said sadly. "The thing took another one just last night."

Josak frowned. "Well. That's problematic"

"Ye could say that," Wilhelm cracked a grin at his choice of words. "Well, the hunter went tae investigate last night. Haven't 'eard of him since."

"A hunter, eh?" Josak asked, gobbling up the remainder of his bread and handed the plate to Wilhelm. "He stays here?"

"Aye. If yer lucky, ye might just run into 'im."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that the door was pushed open. Josak turned to look at the newcomer. It was a Nord with untidy black hair which was sticking out in every direction imaginable. It reminded him of a bird's nest. On his back was a crossbow and on his side hung a katana. He was dressed in a pair of black trousers, a matching black sleeveless vest and a fur-lined cloak.

"Food…"

That was all the man said before he collapsed face first on the floor, his stomach growling ominously.

Josak raised an eyebrow. This definitely topped his list of weird entrances. But that voice… he was sure he had heard it before. But where?

He heard Wilhelm sigh. "Meet the hunter."

He then walked up to the fallen Nord and helped him to his feet before herding him to a room. The hunter was mumbling 'food' all the way. That was all the time Josak needed to take a good long look at the raven haired Nord. He grinned when he recognized the man.

"Anyway, anything else I can get ye?" Wilhelm came out after helping the hunter lie down.

"Nah," Josak said. "Although, I could borrow some ink and parchment, if you can spare me some."

"Aye, that can be arranged, laddie."

Wilhelm busied himself with his daily chores after providing Josak with his requisites, leaving him to whatever he was going to do. Josak scribbled at the piece of parchment for a while before grinning and folding it neatly. He quietly strode over to the hunter's room and stood at the doorframe.

The man was well and truly out of it; limbs outstretched in every direction and snoring slightly. Josak chuckled. He then proceeded to leave the folded slip of parchment on the bedside table and covered it with a bowl of apples. He chuckled silently; a small surprise for the Captain.

Having done so, he made his way to the door, only to be stopped by Wilhelm, who was now mopping the wooden floor.

"Where's home?" the innkeeper asked.

"Dawnstar. My family's waiting for me, I daresay."

Wilhelm nodded. "Aye, havin' a family is a joy."

"Yeah… it is, isn't it?" Josak chuckled softly before opening the door. He paused before crossing the threshold and looked back over his shoulder. "Thanks for the food, old man. And by the way, I hear there's an escaped convict on the loose; you might want to watch out for that."

* * *

**Conrart**

"Is he alive?" Torvar muttered. "I don't think he's breathing."

"I think so," Vilkas replied. He then proceeded to glance at his younger brother. "What happened to him?"

"Got rejected by Ysolda," Farkas shrugged. Everyone nodded in acknowledgement and shared a moment of silence for their fallen comrade.

"I thought she was the one…" mumbled the person in question.

Farkas placed a sympathetic hand on the shoulder of his friend, Conrart. The Nord in question was sitting at the dining table, his face down upon the flat surface and his hands covering his head.

"Don't worry, Connie," Farkas began comfortingly. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of girls to reject you in the future."

For some reason unbeknownst to Farkas, the entire mead hall erupted into euphoric fits of maniacal laughter. Tankards were clinked, toasts were made in Conrart's name and songs were sung in loud baritones. The celebrations came to a sudden standstill the moment Aela walked over to Farkas and smacked him upside the head.

"Have some tact, ice-brain." She reprimanded her Shield-Brother. "It's a very difficult time for our Harbringer. It's his fifth rejection this month. Cut him some slack."

With that, the rejoicing recommenced. Conrart raised his head and frowned at the smirking Huntress. "Why must you give me such a hard time?" he pouted. "You're mean!"

Aela patted the man's head. "It's okay. You'll fall for another girl the day after tomorrow. Keep it up and maybe you'll find someone who'll accept your weird confessions. Someday. I hope."

"Aela, you're a girl, right?" Conrart asked the redhead who had taken a seat beside him. "What do I do wrong?"

"You don't do anything wrong." Aela shrugged. "You know nothing about women; not much you can get wrong that way, is there?"

Conrart stared at his pudding for a while. "I've decided. No more women. I can do without them."

"Great decision," Aela chimed in after taking a swig from her tankard. "I'm sure you'll do well… for three days."

"I'm being serious here!" Conrart pleaded. "I'll turn into a lone, lonely loner. Just you watch."

"Uh-huh."

Taking that as a dismissal, Conrart frowned and stood up from his seat before making his way out of the mead hall. He was promptly greeted by the cool Skyrim air, causing him to stop in his tracks and revel in the moment. He loved the feeling of the wind ruffling his blonde hair. It was a substitute for a woman doing the same.

He sighed for the umpteenth time. Perhaps Whiterun women weren't interested in the typical blonde haired blue eyed Nord? If so, he was destined to be alone. Forever.

He then remembered his solemn vow; no more running after women like a lovesick puppy. No. Women probably didn't like being approached, asked various questions regarding their personal lives, or being followed around town. In his defense, he was just being a good potential husband and looking after his prospective wife-to-be. He didn't see anything wrong with caring.

He took a deep breath and strolled leisurely around the Wind District, nodding to various smiling faces with a smile of his own. The people in Whiterun capital felt safe having the Dragonborn as a citizen. It didn't hurt the fact that he was also a member of the reputed Companions; Harbringer no less. Conrart knew that the people appreciated him. They would invite him for meals, present him with some sort of gift from time to time and always stop to exchange pleasantries.

What more could he ask for?

Although they often asked him to perform ridiculously simple tasks which were, in all honesty, a tad irritating, but he had yet to turn down anyone. Treating everybody equally was a quality which had been drilled into him since childhood. He had his parents, Arkay watch over their souls, to thank for that.

Conrart made his usual rounds before deciding upon a bench under the shadow of the Gildergreen tree. This was his favourite spot in the entire city; his spot. He came here multiple times a day to sit in the great tree's shadow and just let things happen around him. In some ways, he considered the tree to be the center of all the happenings in Whiterun. It was as if everything was part of a big plan, written down by some invisible hand. But somehow, the Gildergreen was always at the center of everything. Always.

It was as if the tree, like some great-grandparent, was watching over the people of this city, looking out for them. He liked that thought. It made him feel safe, somewhat.

Conrart chuckled. Even the mighty Dovahkiin had his insecurities, it would seem.

As the sun overhead rolled along the late Frostfall sky westwards, Conrart thought back to that day two years ago when he had decided to come to Skyrim, leaving behind his old life in Cyrodiil. That day, he was mistaken for a Stormcloak rebel and was sent to have a haircut at shoulder level.

That was also the day when dragons returned to Tamriel. Back then, Conrart wasn't one to believe in the whole destiny and fate nonsense. He did now.

"Having fun daydreaming?"

Conrart smiled and turned to see the familiar figure of Danica Pure-Spring. The priestess of Kynareth was like an overprotective mother-hen type character in his life. She was always scolding him over his reckless habits. Considering the fact that he got hurt fairly often on account of his livelihood, the scolding sessions were nigh endless.

"Danica. I'm not hurt right now." He grinned. "I'm giving you time to improvise on that speech of yours."

"Much obliged," the priestess returned and occupied a seat beside Conrart. "You didn't answer my question."

"I wasn't daydreaming," he offered defensively. "I was just thinking about something."

"Do you mind sharing?" Danica pressed. "I just want something other than prayers to enter my ears for a while. Devout as I am, it gets rather… irksome at times."

Conrart laughed. It was rare that he got to hear Danica whine about such things. "Alright, I'll tell you. Mind you, it's boring stuff."

"I am aware, yes."

Was that sarcasm? Conrart frowned but decided to share anyways. "What are your thoughts on destiny, Danica? You know, all that fate crap?"

Danica tilted her head to the side in ponderation. "You would know better than me, really. You fulfilled your destiny. You slew Alduin the World Eater."

"It's not about me, Danica." Conrart replied softly. "Before coming to Skyrim, I didn't believe in any such stupid concepts which can't be backed up with logic. I do now. But I just want your opinion on the thing. What do you make of this?"

"Well, I don't believe in coincidence, if that answers your question." Danica said thoughtfully. "But I also believe that we must make the choices that shape our lives. I really don't think there is a path laid out for us."

"But you believe that every person has her or his role to play in life? Like, a place they have to reach to make meaning of their existence?"

"Well, I've found my purpose in life. So that's a thought I definitely advocate." Danica smiled. "Why this random delve into the philosophical?"

He considered for a moment. "I am about to tell you something potentially embarrassing. Please don't laugh at me. Well, you can, but just not maniacally."

Danica smirked in response. He didn't really like the ominous vibe said smirk radiated, but he decided to ignore it and go with his instincts.

"You see, ever since I was little, I've been having this particular dream." Conrart said and glanced at his companion, just to make sure she wasn't laughing. Making sure that she wasn't indeed laughing, he went on, confidently this time. "I used to have it a lot when I was growing up and all. However, I didn't know what to make of it. It was… indistinct. I dunno." He paused and ran his fingers through his mop of blonde hair. "Well, it just abruptly stopped after puberty."

He was interrupted by Danica's chuckling. Conrart grimaced and decided to carry on regardless. "But after I came here… well, actually after Alduin and… Kodlak," he gulped, "Uh, it started coming back again."

Danica waited patiently. She didn't try to console him or say anything mushy. Conrart appreciated it.

"They say there's no such thing as paradise," Conrart said finally. "Even if you search to the ends of Nirn, there's nothing there. No matter how far you walk, it's always the same road. It just goes on and on and on." He paused and looked up at the sky. "In that dream, a voice calls to me. It says, _Find Paradise_."

The Nord warrior paused and shook his head with a sigh. "Now I don't know if I'm going insane or the voices in my head are just figments of my dreaming mind, but I suppose paradise isn't such a bad concept, eh?"

"Hmmm," the priestess hummed to herself. "I honestly have no idea what,_ if_, this dream of yours means anything, Conrart. But you are Dragonborn, after all. Blessed by Kynareth herself. And if I know anything, it is that the Divines work in mysterious ways."

"Too mysterious," Conrart muttered as he rose to his feet and stretched his back. "Well, I ought to be going back now, Danica. Aela will just assume I got lost while stalking some innocent girl and talk the guards into forming a search party again," he blanched, "See you later!"

* * *

**Kai**

"This food is amazing!" Kai managed to force out the words between swallowing and chewing. "I have never tasted something show good in my life!"

Wilhelm chuckled, "'Tis just a horker loaf and cheese, lad. Nothin' that special."

He burped. "Try fasting for a whole damn day. Everything tastes divine after that."

"Maybe." Another chuckle. "So, what 'appened? Find anything?"

Nodding, Kai took a sip of the ale Wilhelm had provided so kindly. "I found the body."

That seemed to gain the man's interest.

"Where?"

"On the other side of the Treva; about three miles south west of here," he replied and stuffed his mouth with the horker loaf.

Wilhelm snorted. "You eat like a pig, lad."

"Doesn't pay to be courteous," Kai replied after finishing my mouthful. "Anyway, you wouldn't happen to have straw or hay or something like that, would you?"

"Why? Ye plan on eatin' it too?"

He finished the food and gulped it down with the ale. "No, I want to use it as a cushion."

"A cushion for what?"

Kai raised an eyebrow. "Lying down. What else?"

Wilhelm shook his head. "Yer a strange one."

"Aww shucks," Kai replied and got up from his barstool, smirking. "You make me feel so special."

"Tch. Smartarse…" Wilhelm chuckled and went about his way, picking up the utensils Kai had used for his meal to be washed later. Kai strolled back into his room and collapsed face first on the pillow. The food had helped restore his crazy stamina somewhat, but that didn't do anything to stop his legs from aching. He cursed his tenacity. It always cost him way too much energy whenever he got all excited about something…

He then rolled over onto his back and sighed. He felt way too tired to even sit up again. He groaned. After all this was said and done, he would sleep for a week, Omiq's restaurant be damned. Proudspire Manor was still his house, after all. He contemplated the pros and cons of being reborn as an animal. He liked bears. The bear found no anxiety in living alone. To top it off, they hibernated in winter. He thought how wonderful it must be to able to sleep for months at a stretch. He definitely wanted to become a bear in his next life…

He turned his head to the side and glared at the bowl of apples. Somehow, he blamed the inanimate object for all his misfortunes. He had never really come to appreciate just how evil bowls could look. His mind conjured up images of slapping the man-eater with a bowl. Surprisingly, he found said image rather satisfying.

It was only then that he noticed the slip of parchment sticking out from underneath the bowl. He hated surprise notes.

Reaching out, he lightly grasped the parchment and pulled it out of its imprisonment before unfolding it and leveling it up with his face. For a while, he really didn't understand what the note was meant. All it contained was a hastily drawn picture of a hand with the words _I've found you_ scribbled underneath it.

Kai swore, crumbled it and threw it out of the window.

He placed his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Scowl still firmly in place, he decided to catch up on some sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Well. 348 views. I must be doing something right.**

**Chapter 10**

**Kai**

"You're treating me like a pack rat."

"Good. You'll learn better this way."

Lyon pouted. "I don't wanna carry straw bundles around!"

"It's an important aspect of hunting, Lyon." Kai told his protege as the duo approached the rock outcrop. "Right. Put down your bundles here. We rest a bit."

The boy didn't need telling twice. Dropping both his sacks on the snow, he dropped down on his butt and sat cross legged, sighing deeply.

Kai smiled. Now he understood how his master must've felt when he took him and Ivan out on journeys. They had been responsible for the untimely graying of his hair, no doubt. Yet, Kern was always smiling.

"Aren't you gonna rest, mister?"

"Hmm?" Kai looked at the boy stupidly, "Oh, yeah. Right."

He then set his sacks of straw down on the ground and sat with Lyon. For a while, neither of them spoke.

"Hey, mister?"

"Yeah?"

"What're you gonna do with all the straw?"

That's a rather good question, Kai thought and looked at the four sacks of straw they had been carrying.

"See that outcrop over yonder?" he said and pointed at the rock formation. "There's a flat rock there at the top, enough space for me to lie prone upon. I just want to make a soft cushion, that's all."

"You had me haul two sacks of straw just so you could make a bed?" Lyon said and looked at him through narrowed lids. That look made him nervous somehow.

"Well, it serves a couple of important purposes, if it makes you feel any better."

"How so?"

"Well, honestly I don't know where the cat's going to come from." Kai said with a shrug. "It could be down the mountain, in front of us or it could come up from the south-east, behind us. I'll be facing northwards and so I'll be able to keep my eyes on either side… but if it comes from behind-"

"You're pretty much dead." Lyon said, nodding his head in a sagely manner.

Kai loved how he just stated that as a fact… kids these days offered people no respect at all.

_Nirn's going to Oblivion._

"A-anyway," the hunter cleared his throat, "Once I am in position, it'll be hard to concentrate on everything. I mean, I am human after all; I'm bound to make mistakes. And that's where the straw comes in."

"I… I don't get it. You're overcomplicating things!" the boy complained.

Kai chuckled. His patience surprised even himself. "What happens when you step on dry straw?"

"It crunches, what else?" Lyon replied matter-of-factly. Then his eyes went wide. "OH!"

"Exactly. If it does decide to come in from behind, I'll know," Kai smirked. "Even with padded feet, its nigh impossible for it to not make a single sound."

"You're a genius!"

"It's just common sense, nothing special."

"But mister," Lyon furrowed his brow, his head tilted to one side, "What if the wind blows away your straw?"

Kai lay down, keeping himself propped up on his elbows. "That won't be a problem."

"How can you tell?"

"Do you know what month it is, Lyon?"

"'Course I do! It's Frostfall."

"Correct. The third week of Frostfall to be exact."

Hmm. Had he already been in Ivarstead for over a month?

"So?" the boy asked, clearly impatient.

"So, it's around this time that winter comes, right?"

"Right."

"And during the winter, the winds change; they start flowing from the north and north-west… that is, from the Sea of Ghosts and indirectly, Atmora."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Kai answered. "And what do you see to our north and north-west?"

"The Throat of the World."

"Exactly. We're on the leeward side of the mountain, so we have no need to worry about the north wind," he explained.

"That is so amazing! You actually planned things out! You never plan things out, mister!"

"Oi… don't get too ahead of yourself." Kai deadpanned and got to my feet. "You've done your bit, now hurry on homewards. I'll take things up from here."

The boy pouted. "But mister…"

"Don't give me that. Run along now, 'lil 'un. I'll see ya back in town."

Besides, Kai wouldn't want the kid to see a half eaten corpse…

"Promise?"

"I promise. Tell ya what, I'll even take you out to the woods if you behave and go home now."

He brightened immediately, "All right! You promised, ok?"

"I know I did," Kai grinned tiredly. The boy had way, _way_ too much energy…

"Kill the cat dead, mister!" he said and bolted.

Kai waited until he was out of sight before going to work with the straw. After about an hour of labor, the conditions were acceptable to him.

Lying prone on the flat boulder, he placed the katana to his left and propped the crossbow up in front of him. He had a clear view of the body, and by the looks of it, there were no chances of rainfall or snow.

Perfect.

"Now maestro," he whispered to himself, fingers hooked around the crossbow's lever, "I'm ready for you."

* * *

**Casair**

She didn't want to wake up. Not yet, at least. But a goat bleating a few centimeters from her ear and feeding on the haystack she used as a bed didn't exactly make for ideal sleeping conditions.

Sitting up, she stretched her arms and shook some hay from her hair. She then frowned at the goat.

"Don't mind him. I think he likes you."

She stared at the grinning man leaning against the cave wall and frowned.

"Shut up, Aigil," she told him. "Why do we have a goat in here anyway?"

Aigil shrugged. "Can't milk you now, can I?"

"Keep this up and I'll make sure you wake up one morning incapable of reproduction."

Aigil chuckled and held up his hands in mock surrender. "I heard you went and killed an old woman in Riften."

Rising to her feet, she flicked her chestnut tresses. "So what if I did?" she replied as she walked over to the cupboard and retrieved a plate and a horker loaf.

"So, I don't see the point in involving yourself with their matters. We have our problems, they have theirs. They're not helping us solve ours. Why should we help them?"

"It's because she did bad things to children. People who use children to gain profits aren't people. They're monsters. And monsters need to be eliminated."

Aigil sighed. "You're too idealistic. Righteousness will get us nowhere."

She considered this. "The Nords think of us as barbaric, Aigil. I want to prove them wrong. We need to prove them wrong. The Forsworn are not barbarians. We have our own culture… all we need is acknowledgement." She took a deep breath. "If we act like what they think of us, then we're giving them reasons to push us away; to marginalise us even more than they already do."

"And murdering a woman in her sleep helps our cause how?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What good does ridding the world of evil do? Gee Aigil, I don't know. That's a pretty tough one."

"I give up." Aigil chuckled. Then his expression hardened. "Your grandfather has sent word."

"And?"

"He disapproves of our plan."

"Didn't I tell you?" she said. "I don't approve of _your_ plan myself."

Aigil crossed his arms over his chest. "Casair, your grandfather, our King, has been rotting in Cidhna Mine for twenty-three years. We have to take a stand against the Nords. The Civil War has just ended three months ago. They are weakened now. Do you not see? This is the perfect opportunity to show them our strength." He paused for breath, "You talk of acknowledgement. Do you think they'll just hand it to you on a silver platter? No. We have to fight for it."

"I understand what you mean, Aigil." Casair responded, chewing on her food. "I really do. But are you really willing to disobey the King's direct orders? You know how he is; he'll break out sooner or later."

Aigil paused before responding, "When?"

"What?"

"I asked when? When do you think he'll break out?"

"I-"

"Exactly. You don't know. Neither do I nor anyone else. We've been waiting for a very long time, Casair. I'm sick of waiting. I'm sick of my inability to do anything. And I'm definitely sick of all the Nord bullshit." Aigil punched the stone wall in his frustration. "In time, the King will realise that my actions were for the best. That's why, Casair, that's why we're making a move."

The girl couldn't say anything to that.

"Be mentally prepared." Aigil said and walked off towards the cave entrance. "We make our move in three months' time."

"Three months?" Casair started. "B-But it's the Old Life Festival in three months!"

Aigil stopped and glanced at her over his shoulder. She could clearly see the smirk on his face.

"Exactly."

* * *

**Reina**

Reina was pissed. It always happened during this time of month, but at least she had the option of staying indoors, curled up under the furs with a book. But not this time, nuh-uh. She had been running interference for the num-num head who called himself the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. _Some Listener. Pfft._ He could've just shown up, killed the old witch and gone his merry way. But _no_ – he just _had _to go ahead and rouse the whole freaking neighbourhood with his maniacal shrieking.

And what does Maven do? She dumps the responsibility of cleaning up the whole damn fiasco on her. She had to come up with a fib, bribe every blasted guard, persuade Constance to just accept the fib and let it be, make sure the guards knew to stop the citizens from attacking the Listener while still trying to chase the felon as he escaped… and failed miserably in the process. Oblivion, she had to withstand the rain and cramps to be present while the Listener escaped, just to make sure everything went according to plan. Not that anything could go wrong, anyhow. It was worth seeing Mjoll fall flat on her face. The guards, too, put on a believable performance. On the whole, her perfectionist self was satisfied with her handiwork.

But did she get appreciated? Nope. She was expected to do her best every time something cropped up and what did she get in return? Gold, sure; but no appreciation. Nothing. Sometimes she wondered why she even put up with all the crap.

The redhead sighed and cuddled the side pillow. She was too exhausted to even get out of bed. She missed cuddling with Mercer. She missed his touch, the sound of his voice, his presence… she missed everything about him. Although she knew full well that he had screwed them all over, something she could never forgive, she still had lingering feelings for him. This was why she was so angry at herself. She was still in love with a traitor whom she had slain with her own hands. What kind of a twisted person was she?

She buried her face in the pillow out of frustration. The always smiling and cheerful façade was getting to her. What did she have to be all happy about anyway? Bryn had told her that the boss should always be smiling. She had followed it, and it had worked. Her Guild members were working as hard as they could and were as loyal and efficient as ever. She couldn't ask anything more from them. But as of late, she hadn't been participating in Guild activities as much as she should have been. Bryn was right. She was always cooped up inside Riftweald Manor, formulating plans for Guild operations. She missed interacting with her teammates, but she just didn't have the heart to appear before them anytime soon.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden flapping sound. She looked up to find a raven seated on her bedside table, looking intently at her. She recognized the bird. Sitting up slowly, Reina extended her hand towards the bird and retrieved the small roll of parchment it carried on its right leg. She then flattened it out on her bed and squinting in order to read the small font in which the note was written.

'Sophie brought home a puppy the other day, named her Olive. Lucille was upset because she was allergic to furry animals. Ingrid sends her love. Personally, I think she misses you a lot. So does Turin, Ursula, Denise and Eirik. I do too. You never did come to visit us again. Illya is all grown up now. She's six already. Can you imagine? The children are fast becoming independent too. Only the other day, Sophie found herself a job as a blacksmith's apprentice. It's to impress Aaron, I daresay. I have nothing against that boy, but he better not be getting any ideas anytime soon. Her mother, protective as she is of her children, would wring his neck. I wouldn't have to do a thing. What more is there to say? I heard of Grelod's death. Good riddance, I say. Well, take care of yourself. Best wishes, Ogmund.'

Reina blinked. Then she re-read the message. It was only after she had read the thing three times that realisation hit and caused her to break into a grin, as she always did upon getting a letter from Footpad.

Footpad, as he liked to call himself, was somebody who's true identity nobody knew, including Reina. Of course, she had tried investigating, but he had always neatly covered his tracks. He was an elusive phantom. Very few people knew of his existence. The tasks he performed were also peculiar.

Footpad was a person with seemingly infinite knowledge. He was a consultant, if anything. People from all walks of life could engage his services, and it was rumoured that even Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak himself had counted on Footpad's information before his successful siege of Whiterun. Reina, however, being the brainy person she was, worked a tad differently. She drafted her own plans, and had Footpad improve on or approve them.

She really wanted to meet the man himself one day. How could she not? She prided herself with her brain's ability to formulate plans. To meet somebody on a higher plane of intellect would be such an enlightening experience for her.

Even this note was a stroke of genius. At first glance, it might seem like the ramblings of a deranged lunatic. But if one was somewhat acquainted to the cipher, solving the puzzle wasn't all that difficult.

Reina, still grinning, looked up at where the crow had been perched. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't there.

"You're all smiles today. Something good happen?"

She rolled her eyes. "What gives you the right to invade my privacy, you trespasser? Be gone. Shoo."

Brynjolf chuckled at the shooing gesture his sister made with her hand. "I was under the impression of having asked you a question?"

In response, Reina crumpled up the note into a ball and threw it at her brother, who deftly caught it. "Read for yourself." She said.

"What is this?"

"A code."

"Well, un-code it for me," Brynjolf replied as he went through the contents of the note, brows furrowed. "Who the Oblivion is this Ogmund character and why is he writing to you?"

"Such protectiveness. I'm so happy!" Reina dramatically clasped her hands over her mouth in mock joy.

"I'm being serious here."

"Puu. Spoilsport." Reina pouted before grinning. "What you hold in your hand is actually a reply from Footpad… which happens to be a code."

"Okay. Have you cracked it yet?"

"I have."

"So let me have it, lass."

"Alright, alright," Reina relented. "You've read the whole thing, right? Say the names in order. All of them, even the mutt's name."

Brynjolf frowned, but complied. "Sophie, Olive, Lucille, Ingrid, Turin, Ursula, Denise, Eirik, Illya, Sophie, Aaron, Grelod, Ogmund."

"S-O-L-I-T-U-D-E-I-S-A-G-O," Reina said with an ear to ear grin. "Solitude is a go."

For a moment, Brynjolf said nothing. Then he chuckled softly.

"Exactly," she said and lay back down. "Get some snowberries for me while you're at it, will you? They help me keep the cramps at bay."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Events of chapters 10 and 11 take place simultaneously.**

**Chapter 11**

**Ivan**

"Good afternoon," Ivan said with a curt nod upon entering the lecture hall where the new batch of apprentice mages stood waiting for him. The Khajiit stood a little distance off from his classmates. _He has confidence_, Ivan thought. It was probably a good thing. The Nord, he noted, was looking up at the architecture in wonderment, a smile playing across his features. He looked happy. The Dunmer, however, was fidgeting with her fingers and shuffling her feet. _Nervousness due to lack of self confidence_, Ivan concluded. Having thus silently judged them, he smiled and sat down cross legged on the floor. "Please, take a seat. You don't have to stand."

Awkward glances were shared among the three apprentices before the Nord cleared his throat and asked, "You want us to sit down?"

"Unless you don't want to," Ivan shrugged. "I just thought standing for the entire duration of the class would be taxing on your leg muscles. However, if you feel like you can manage, who's stopping you?"

Ivan patiently waited as more awkward glances were exchanged before the Khajiit shrugged and sat down, followed soon by the Nord and the Dunmer.

"Good. Now then, I suppose introductions are in order." Ivan clapped his palms together. "My name is Ivan Asarsen. I hold the post of Assistant Master Wizard at the College. Simply put, it means I'm the unofficial bitch of Mirabelle Ervine," he deadpanned resulting in a smirk from the Khajiit, a chuckle from the Nord and a small smile from the Dunmer.

"Moving on," Ivan cleared his throat. "My job here is to sit at a desk and sign my name on documents relating to the College's funds, job requests from outside, student applications… that kind of thing. It's… irritating to say the least. So when they told me I had a class to lecture, I jumped at the opportunity. Anything is better than that."

He paused before continuing. "So that's that about me. Now, I want a short introduction from you three. Nothing too fancy. Your name, likes, dislikes, reasons for joining the College and future ambitions. That should suffice. Now then, who wants to go first?"

He glanced over his students again, noticing how the Khajiit and Nord were ready to show off their over eagerness. The Dunmer clearly needed a boost of morale. If she saw how confident these two were in their abilities, she would subconsciously retreat deeper into her shell. And he would have none of that.

"How about you?" he asked while looking directly at the female Dunmer with a soft smile. "Do you want to tell us a little about yourself?"

She was clearly caught by surprise. "M-me?"

"Indeed. I'll be a gentleman and let ladies start first," Ivan kept his smile firmly in place as he said this.

The Dunmer girl bowed her head, blushing slightly. When she looked up again, she was smiling determinedly. "My name is Brelyna. Brelyna Maryon."

The introductions went along smoothly after that. All three of them had withheld information from him, and that was perfectly fine with Ivan. He would get to know them better with time. After J'zargo had concluded his short introduction, Ivan remained silent for a short while before breaking into speech.

"You three are naturally gifted, and have the talent and fortitude to pursue and hopefully achieve greatness in the field of magick." He said, "So tell me, what do _you_ think magicka is? Any idea?"

Onmund was the first to answer. "Magicka is the accumulated life force of dead organisms which mages tap to convert into magical spells."

Ivan looked at Brelyna next who took it as her cue to answer. "Well, there's a theory which states that when Magnus created Mundus, he, uh, unintentionally tore a hole into Aetherius. This sort of allowed magicka to… umm, flow through the stars. I think."

J'zargo was ready to speak the moment Ivan turned to look at him. "According to legend, magicka is what's left of Magnus' power when he was all but destroyed in the creation of the mortal plane."

Ivan sat silently for a while longer before breathing out deeply and rubbing his palms together. He then smiled. "You people are pretty well versed in this. Congratulations." _I approved your applications, I would know._

He looked at the smiling faces of the people before him. Such a shame, he thought to himself.

"Unfortunately, that won't be enough."

The smiles vanished instantly. Ivan went on undeterred. "The problem with you people is that you think you know so much. Sure, I don't deny it. You've been apprentices to some very big names, I'm sure. You might even have the talent to bring down a dragon by yourself for all I care. But that's what you do outside. Inside these walls, we educate you. We shape not only your abilities, but also your mind. Shaping a mind that is already full to the brim is a rather tiresome job, if at all possible." He paused for breath and smiled again. "Therefore, what I'm going to ask of you is to empty your mind. I don't really care if you're a Master level mage in one or more disciplines, but here, we're going to start from the basics all over again. If you feel this is unnecessary, you are free to leave."

Silence was all he received from the other end.

"Good. You understand." Ivan nodded sagely. "And speaking of basics, magicka is basically energy. It's a form of energy which can be moulded to suit our various needs. Nothing more, nor less. For example, _this_ is raw magicka."

So saying, he held out his palm. A purplish-hued vapour started rising from Ivan's palm, and though it was very faint, it was enough for the three students to make out.

Ignoring their muffled noises of wonderment, Ivan went on. "Raw magicka is without form. You can't properly use it until you focus it into a fine point before projecting it. Your mind must be able to clearly visualise the shape and form it wishes to achieve. Only then will you will be able to enforce it. But enough theory. Let's me show you."

Ivan smirked and clenched his outstretched hand into a fist and pulled it back. Light radiated from between the gaps of his fingers before Ivan thrust out his palm and with a strange crackling sound, a diamond-shaped spike of solid ice flew out of it. It whizzed between the heads of J'zargo and Onmund, who were sitting next to each other.

"And now for the grand finale." Ivan smirked, resulting in the three apprentices turning around to see what was in store for them. Just as the ice spike was a couple of feet away from colliding against the double doors of the Hall of the Elements, Ivan clicked his right thumb and middle finger together.

The reaction was instantaneous. The ice projectile imploded and burst into flames. The flames divided into four separate jets and swirled around along the walls of the great hall before shooting up towards the ceiling, meeting each other at the very top and vanishing completely.

"How in the name of everything wonderful did you do that, sir?" Brelyna wet her lips before asking, her eyes still stuck on the ceiling. J'zargo and Onmund's dumbfounded expressions mirrored Brelyna's inquiry.

Ivan only chuckled. "Please, no need to call me 'sir'. You can call me by name. I'm only twenty-six, after all. As for that little trick, well, that's my secret."

"Oh please, you only used remote alchemy to separate the constituents of ice, and then combusted one in another. It's a cheap parlour trick, if anything, and frankly, it's getting old."

Ivan sighed. "Must you insist on exposing my tricks to every new batch, Mira?"

"Your fault for using the same trick every year," Mirabelle Ervine, Master Wizard, spoke with a smirk as she strode into the Hall. "And that's Miss Ervine to you, _Assistant_ Master Wizard Asarsen. And as for you three," she looked at the apprentices who had by then got to their feet, "Tolfdir has something special planned for all of you. Though I won't spoil it, Tolfdir did say he needed an assist-"

"I'll do it." Ivan didn't even know what Tolfdir wanted when the words left his mouth. Oblivion, anything the old lunatic had up his sleeve would be better than sifting through paperwork.

"Not going to run away from me?" Mirabelle asked as she walked up to Ivan. The three apprentices had by then shuffled out of the Hall, leaving the Master Wizard alone with her subordinate. Ivan didn't reply, instead lying down flat upon his back on the polished floor.

"What's the point?" he said after a while. "You'll just dump more paperwork on me when you do find me."

"I'm glad you finally acknowledge that fact."

"How can I not? You even me make do your paperwork. Oblivion, I'm surprised I'm not doing the Arch Mage's paperwork by now."

"Someday, perhaps."

Ivan turned his head to look at the Master Wizard. He found her leaning against the vertical beam in the centre of the hall, looking down at him. She was smiling at him, serenely.

Ivan sat up. "Yeah, someday."

"Something the matter?"

"Just thinking about what the crazy loon has planned. But before I go," Ivan looked directly at her, "How about a little kissie, Miss Ervine?"

"Impatient, are we?" Mirabelle Ervine answered with a small laugh as she walked up to Ivan and held out her hand. "You'll just have to wait until nightfall, as usual. But right now, your presence is required elsewhere, Assistant Master Wizard."

Ivan chuckled and shook his head before accepting her hand and rising to his feet. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

**Harkon**

Despite what most others thought, Harkon Volkihar was a kind hearted man. He was sympathetic, patient and lenient. He was also very approachable, allowing any and all members of his court to approach him with issues.

Loyalty was something he held in high esteem.

So when he smelt Fura Bloodmouth outside his chambers, about to knock, he saved her the hastle.

"Enter," he said lazily. He was sympathetic and kind-hearted, after all.

"Lord Harkon," Fura said, fist pressed over her chest solemnly after crossing the threshold and closing the door behind her. If she was intimidated, she scarcely let it show in her voice.

"Ah, Fura. What news do you bring?" the vampire lord asked rather cheerfully. "Has Vingalmo poisoned my blood vial? Or has Orthjolf hired some dastardly bastard to aid him in his cause to overthrow me, hmm?"

Fura's lip quirked just a bit, but she masterfully wiped it in a fraction of a second. _Impressive._

"No, my lord, the court has raised some questions regarding your son, Lord Firo."

"Indeed?"

Positioning himself before the fireplace with his hands clasped behind his back, Harkon focused on the flickering flames. He had been wondering when this particular topic would be referred to him. He had been waiting for it, in fact.

"Permission to speak freely, my lord?"

"Of course, Fura. I'm no tyrant to be feared."

Oh how he loved that line.

"Some members have raised... doubts regarding Lord Firo's loyalty to our cause," Fura began, head bowed slightly. "They state that it is suspicious how he was only survivor of the Dawnguard assault during the attempted retrieval of the Bloodstone Chalice. That event by itself would not be suspicious but he was _also _the sole survivor of the assault on the Vigilants." A pause. "We also have only his word about how both those events took place."

"I can certainly see the reason for concern among the masses," Harkon said without moving an inch from his spot. "And what do you think, Fura? Do you think my son a traitor?"

The female vampire looked down at her boots. "It is not my place to judge, milord."

"Exactly," Harkon murmured as the closed the five feet separating him and Fura in a flash, startling the girl. He proceeded to curl his index around her chin and tilted her face upwards. "It is not anybody's place to judge another, for they should know well their place in court. As you do, Fura. How I wish everybody could follow your example."

"My lord – I –"

Letting go of his most loyal follower, Harkon Volkihar allowed himself a smirk. "Tell the court that they have no reason to panic. Necessary steps shall be taken as and when required."

"Of course, milord!"

When she had scuffled off to do her duty, Harkon resumed his endless pacing. "Valerica, you've cursed me from beyond the grave," he muttered. "Hid your daughter, hid yourself, and left your son in my ranks so that he could turn traitor in time. Nothing less I'd expect from _my_ wife."

_Do not fly too close to the sun, Firo-boy, lest your newfound waxen wings melt. The fall will be something you'll never recover from._

* * *

**Omiq**

Morthal was a dreary place. There was a nip in the air, announcing the imminent and speedy arrival of winter.

Omiq shivered in spite of the insulation his robes and fur provided. The hamlet had a veil of... disquiet about it. Something just wasn't right. Years of instincts screamed at him that something was horrendously wrong, but the Khajiit brushed them off. Whatever Morthal's problems, they weren't his. _Not right now, anyway._

Crunching the snow beneath his boots, the Khajiit strode over to a small, isolated hut under the cover of darkness. It was a journey he had not made in some years.

He knocked on the door twice in quick succession before he could check himself. _Some habits really do die hard, _he thought with a smile.

The door opened to reveal a sour-looking Redguard, whose expression soured further upon seeing Omiq. "You," he said simply.

The Khajiit offered his most winsome smile. "It is indeed this one, nya. How has the Redguard been?"

"Skip the pleasantries and drop the accent. Whaddaya want?"

Omiq merely tilted his head to one side. "It'd be better if we talk inside, Falion."

The Redguard raised an eyebrow and steeped aside to allow Omiq to peek inside. The latter obliged, and was surprised to see a young Nord girl, hardly in her teens, fast asleep on a bed. The sight made Omiq raise his brows instead.

"We'll talk outside," Falion said and Omiq nodded. The Redguard then closed the door softly behind him.

"Dare I ask?" Omiq asked as his contact led him off into the marshes.

"The girl? She's my apprentice. Name of Agni. She's a good girl, if a bit... spirited."

"Never thought I'd see the day where you took an apprentice, Falion," Omiq commented as the Redguard sat himself on the stump of a recently felled evergreen. "Always figured you were the type to disappear off to Akavir or Yokuda or even Atmora for that matter."

"And I figured you died in Helgen. Funny how figuring works, doesn't it?"

The Khajiit smirked and leant up against a tree, facing his associate. "I've come to consult you, Falion. It's your specialty. Vampires."

"Our specialty, you mean," the Redguard mused, stroking his beard. "You could've been Grandmaster of the Order, Omiq."

"And you could have been Lorekeeper, but here we are," Omiq replied and flapped his hand, waving off the Redguard's words. "Do you know anything about the bloodsuckers having a prophecy about blotting out the Sun?"

"Nope."

Omiq chuckled reflexively. "I tell you that vampires are trying to blot out the sun and you respond with a damn monosyllable!"

"Yes, well, I've seen and heard a lot of strange things. If the vampires are indeed planning something like that, I would not be very surprised," the Redguard said, even as the corner of his lips twitched into a grin. "But seriously, how did you even know about this?"

"Oh, a vampire told me."

"Yeah. I'm not even going to ask."

The Khajiit snickered. "Anyway. Since you don't know, I'm out of leads. You got any I could use?"

"Hmmm. Remember old Caius?"

Omiq grimaced. "If a fifty year old man throws a coconut at a vampire's mug and tells it to suck on said fruit, I think anybody would have a hard time forgetting."

It was now Falion's turn to snicker. "Yes, well. There's always that. But anyway, old man Caius has a daughter. She's a priest of Arkay down at Riften."

"That I know."

"Caius was the Loremaster before he died. If he knew something, he'd have journalled it. Your best bet is to talk to Alessandra. See if you can get your hands on the journal."

Omiq whistled. "Well. I'll see what i can do."

Nodding, Falion rose to his feet. "Glad to help, Now, if you'll excuse me, I have left my student alone long enough," he said and glanced at his cottage. "I wish you-" the Redguard began but stopped upon noticing that the Khajiit had already disappeared. Falion harrumphed.

"I hate that cat."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Conrart**

"Nerevar guide me!"

"Gods won't help you, Athis!"

Sparks flew as Conrart and Athis clashed blades in the training grounds. The Dunmer held fast, pushing the Nord back with every slash and stab. Conrart found himself in dire straits. He was doing all he could just to parry all of his opponent's moves, leaving no room to launch an attack of his own. He clenched his jaw and gripped the pommel of his Skyforge steel sword tighter.

He sidestepped the Dunmer's thrust and brought his sword down upon the Dunmer, only to be blocked by the short dagger the elf held in his other hand. Gaining his footing, Athis jumped back, creating space between him and the Harbringer.

Conrart grinned and wiped away the bead of sweat rolling down along his eyebrow with the back of his gauntlet. "Not bad."

"I could say the same for you," Athis returned. "You've improved at the use of one handed weapons."

"Been practicing," the Nord smiled. "So, shall we end this?"

"With pleasure." Athis braced himself before charging at his Harbringer. Conrart lifted his sword and brought it down vertically, aimed at his opponent's head. Athis blocked it with his sword, but his left wrist buckled under the sheer amount of force behind the downward slash. He brought up his dagger and blocked it with both blades, yet he was still forced to kneel.

"My win!" Conrart grinned and lifted his sword over his head, aiming to finish it with the next attack. For Athis, this provided a very small window of opportunity and he seized it.

He threw the dagger in his right hand at Conrart's face. Reflexively, Conrart brought his sword down prematurely to stop the projectile from piercing his nose, and succeeded in knocking it off its intended trajectory.

Kneeling on his left knee, Athis lashed out with his right foot and hit Conrart's left shin, pushing his leg away under him and forcing him down on his right knee. Now at face level, Athis placed his right hand on the nape of Conrart's neck, and pointed his sword at the Nord's face.

"What just happened?" Conrart blinked, dumbstruck.

"You lost," Athis chuckled and rose to his feet. "Again. But you did push me pretty far. You have improved by leaps and bounds, however, you're easy to distract."

"I noticed." Conrart sheathed his blade and sighed. "Maybe I should stick to using the spear, you know? I know being versatile is a necessity and all, but I'm good at using the spear. Shouldn't I stick to my strengths?"

"Always expand your horizons," Athis said as he retrieved his dagger and sheathed it. "Glory lies beyond the horizon. That's something someone I used to know always said."

"Huh." Conrart uttered as he sat down at the table and unstrapped his breastplate and set it down. He was sweating profusely even in the last week of Frostfall. "That's a rather inspiring line. Who was it that told you that?"

Athis joined Conrart at the table and sat across from him, placing his feet atop the table and leaning back. "Before I joined the Companions, I was part of a mercenary unit which was employed in the Skyrim Civil War by the Legion. It was a small unit, only eight members, but it was probably the best clandestine unit Tulius had at his disposal. The person who was in command of our unit, well, he was a strange fellow. It was he who used to say, 'Glory lies beyond the horizon.'"

"I'd like to meet this person one day," Conrart said. "He seems like an interesting sort. So what was your unit for? Did you do anything special?"

The Dunmer mercenary sat quietly for a while as if reliving the memories of his former life. With a sigh, he said, "I know not about special things, Harbringer, but we did…things. Necessary things, you understand. Things nobody else wanted to do. Or should do, for that matter."

"I… see," Conrart shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't want to bring back ghosts of the past. Talos knew he had to deal with enough ghosts from his own past. "Are you still in touch with your old mates?"

"Naw. Half of them got massacred at Helgen. I don't know what became of the others."

Conrart shivered. He suspected it had nothing to do with the cold. Every time he thought of what had transpired at Helgen two years ago, a cold shiver ran down his spine. It was something he couldn't help. The memories were overwhelming sometimes.

"You were at Helgen?" Conrart asked curiously. "I don't remember seeing you."

Athis shrugged and picked up a loaf of bread. "It's complicated."

"Simplify it, then." He smiled at his guildmate and helped himself to a bottle of mead.

"Well, you know how Ulfric and his men were ambushed by Imperial forces?"

"Uh-huh."

"That was us," Athis began. "We were deployed to intercept and hold them until they sent the cavalry. So we did. Now, we didn't know that we'd be taking Ulfric. Legate Rikke only mentioned the fact that they had received news of a Stormcloack caravan of sorts which was supplying some form of cargo. Food, water or weapons, we thought. Turned out they were carrying the Jarl himself. Our unit consisted of a Dunmer," he pointed at himself with a smirk, "a Khajiit, an Orc, a Redguard, a couple of Imperials, a Breton and a couple of Nords. The knowledge of our existence was kept secret because of the nature of the work we usually did. Only Tulius and Rikke knew about us. Thank you."

Conrart had passed the bottle of mead to Athis, who graciously accepted it and took a gulp before setting it down on the table. "Anyway, after the Stormcloaks were trussed like turkeys, along with you," Conrart grimaced, "our Captain ordered two of us- the Khajiit and the Orc- to go back to Solitude and report the fact that we had bagged the biggest fish in the pond. I myself grew weary of all the… operations we had to undertake. They weren't the most cheerful in the world, and I wanted no part of that life anymore. I wanted something with lesser bloodshed… something like trying my luck at the Companions. So, our Captain granted me leave, said he'd have at it with Tulius, he did. Before I went my own way, I told him that if he should require my assistance, he could always call on me. As you can see, that call never came."

"Your team died at Helgen?"

Athis shrugged. "In all likelihood, that's the safest bet."

"I see," Conrart mused, unsure of what else to say. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It had nothing to do with you, Connie." Athis dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, what do you say to another round? Reckon you'll last five minutes this time?"

Conrart grinned ear to ear. "You read my mind!"

* * *

**Omiq**

He knocked twice, as per usual. Life in the army had rubbed off on him, including the signature double knock.

Omiq mentally noted to break that habit.

The door opened a crack and a woman poked her head out. "Yes?"

"This one is a humble priest of Arkay," Omiq began.

"And I'm the Jarl of Riften," the woman said and slammed it shut in his face.

"So that's what it feels like, nya." Omiq muttered and knocked again. "This one swears upon his immortal soul that Omiq is indeed a priest of Arkay."

"How do I know you just won't rape me? You cat people are always in heat."

Omiq chuckled at the woman's reply. "The girl is just as paranoid as her father, this one sees, nya."

He then paused for a bit, wondering if it had worked. As the door fully opened, he received his answer.

"What do _you _know of my father?" the woman asked, standing with her arms crossed over her chest at the doorway.

Omiq smiled. "Caius Lepidus, born on the fourteenth day of Rain's Hand, 4E 135. Died aged sixty-four, on the third day of Sun's Dawn, 4E 200. Servant to Arkay for forty of those years. Member of the Order of Arkay and later the Knights of the Circle. Served as Loremaster of the Order for the last decade of his life. Widower, but with a daughter named Alessandra whom he wanted to follow in his footsteps, or at least be a part of the Order for protection and aid."

The girl stared at him, clearly doubtful. "Anybody could have gone to Andurs and jotted down those points you just mentioned."

"If it is indeed proof you require," Omiq said and pulled up the left sleeve of robes and held out his left wrist for inspection. On a patch of exposed skin were branded two symbols; the first that of a looped cross and the second of two overlapping squares. The two symbols, used in conjunction, were used to mark the members of the Order of Arkay. _The fur never did grow back, _the Khajiit thought with a small smile.

"Okay. I'm satisfied," the Imperial said grudgingly and sighed. "You are priest of Arkay and a member of the Order and you could have possibly known my father. What brings you here, then?"

"What's your name, nya?"

"I – what?"

"Your name," Omiq grinned. "I am merely making sure that it is indeed Caius's daughter I'm speaking to."

"Yes. My name is Alessandra. Now please state your business."

The Khajiit tilted his head. "Your father kept a journal. I merely want to take a look."

"You wish to peruse through my father's journal."

"Yes."

"And what makes you think that I still have them?"

"The exact same reason why you refuse to bury his dagger with him."

Alessandra looked stricken. "How-"

"Listen, Miss Alessandra. It is my business to know things. I _like_ to know things, nya. Now there is something that I don't know, something very important, and your father's journal might help me," Omiq said with finality. "Please. It is of the utmost importance that I look through them, at least." _Wouldn't have paid twenty Septims for a carriage from Whiterun otherwise._

Finally, Alessandra moved aside. "Come on in, then," she said with a sigh.

The Khajiit nodded and crossed the threshold into the Hall of the Dead, looking around the chamber with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Don't mind the dead Nord. He'll be gone within a few hours," the grave tender said as she closed the door and saw Omiq looking at the corpse on a table. "Anyway, come with me. I'll show you to your precious journals."

"Many thanks, nya."

"So, if you don't mind me asking," Alessandra began, leading Omiq down a small flight of stairs into the ill-lit basement, carrying a lit lantern. "What exactly do you hope to find?"

Omiq followed the woman and peered over her shoulder as she stopped before a wooden chest and knelt to unlock it. "Information. Regarding prophecies mostly. Do you need help with that?" he added the last part upon seeing Alessandra struggle with the rusty latch, which gave way with a loud snap just as Omiq finished.

The grave tender stood up beside the Khajiit, a proud smirk on her face. "Prophecies regarding what?"

Kneeling, Omiq lifted the lid and found it filled to the brim with leather bound journals. He sighed. _Probably fifty of those in here._

"Vampires," he said after a while.

* * *

**Ivan**

"I didn't tag along just for babysitting these brats, Tolfdir," Ivan said with impatience as the senior wizard sent the three apprentices along to gather what he termed, 'items of interest.'

"I know you didn't," Tolfdir replied. "Which is why I have something… unusual I have to show you. Come with me."

So saying, the elder wizard started walking along a passageway due North. They found Arniel Gane, engrossed in his research. The pair thought it best to not disturb the man and trudged onwards, only to reach a dead end.

"It's a dead end," Ivan stated.

"Indeed. It's a dead end. Fascinating, no?"

Ivan scowled at his chuckling colleague, unable to mask his rising irritation, but then his eye caught sight of something else. Suspended in front of a brightly-lit, arched section of the wall, was what looked like a Nordic amulet of sorts, but this one was… different somehow.

"Say, what's that thing?" Ivan asked and pointed at the amulet. Tolfdir clapped him on the back and shoved him forward. "That, my friend, is the reason why I brought you along. I would like your opinion on it. Go ahead."

"You could've told me normally instead of pushing me onto things. This place could be rigged with old death traps!" Ivan remonstrated, but still stumble-walked up to the wall and brought his face close to examine the artefact.

It was definitely Nordic, of that he was sure. However, it was magickal, which though not unusual, was rather intriguing.

"So what do you think?" Tolfdir called out from behind. "Interesting?"

"Definitely beats paperwork any day." Ivan returned and retrieved the amulet from the wall to get a better view.

And that's when it happened.

There was the sound of metallic clanking, of rusty gears grinding against each other. Ivan had raided enough Nordic tombs to know what a trap sounded like. Before he could even react, a large, steel gate fell into place behind him, trapping him in place and cutting him off from Tolfdir.

"Ah. A spear trap. How quaint," Tolfdir stroked his beard, his voice contemplative. "I remember the first time I was caught in one of those. How nostalgic…"

"Yes, you've told me before," Ivan replied and ran his fingers along the bars of the steel gate. Definitely not rusty and weak. "Now would you mind getting me out of here?"

"I would, but I don't see any release mechanisms on my side, I'm afraid," Tolfdir replied as he bustled about the place before sighing and walking back up to Ivan. "A fine fix you've- What is that?"

"Ehh?"

"Your hand. Look at the amulet, boy."

"Huh?" Ivan muttered as he looked down at the recently retrieved amulet clutched in his palm. What he saw only added to his bewilderment.

Around the amulet were swirling masses of magicka, covering it like a cloak.

"Never in all my years have I seen something quite like that…" Tolfdir said in wonderment. "Place it around your neck, Ivan. Let's see what happens."

"You sure nothing bad will happen?" Ivan asked, clearly uneasy. He couldn't bring himself to trust a piece of jewellery with magicka revolving around it.

"Consider this an experiment for the sake of furthering our knowledge, boy."

"And if I should die as a consequence?"

"Then we'll mourn your loss."

Ivan glared at his grinning companion and complied. In his heart, he was curious himself as to what effect this rather strange artefact would have on the wearer. Carefully, he placed the amulet around his neck.

The reaction was instantaneous.

For a brief second, Ivan felt his heart stop beating. When it did resume its hammering, he felt somewhat different. He felt… empowered. Dazed, he placed his hand on the amulet and to his surprise, he could feel it pulsing, resonating with his very heartbeat. The swirling masses of magicka revolved around him for a brief moment before seeping into his skin. His robes fluttered mildly as this happened and Ivan closed his eyes with a great sigh of relief.

He felt at one with himself, with the world and with the magicka for those short few seconds before everything went back to normal.

"Well?" Tolfdir asked pensively. "How do you feel?"

"Good. I feel… good." Ivan replied. "This amulet, though. It clearly carries some kind of enchantment. I've never felt anything quite like that before, though."

"Hmmm," Tolfdir stroked his beard. "I wonder… what effect might it have on your spells?"

"Only one way to find out."

"Indeed… wait, what?"

Without even a second's hesitation, Ivan thrust out his palm at the wall from which he had previously retrieved the amulet and a halberd made of pure ice shot out of his palm and into the wall, resulting in a rather unexpected explosion. The wall collapsed completely and as a consequence, the trap was also released, allowing Tolfdir to rush to Ivan's side as the latter shielded himself from the flying rubble and debris.

"Warn me the next time you have impulses of bringing down walls with Destruction magick," Tolfdir chastised with a smirk. "But that was quite something."

"The amulet… it amplifies the destructive output of my spells," Ivan said in wonderment while staring at his palm.

"Well, this is highly unusual. And very exciting!"

"I guess you could say that, Tolfdir." Ivan agreed, still in awe. "This amulet is somet-"

"Why in the world would this be sealed off? What is this place?"

"What?" Ivan blinked, finally breaking out of his reverie. The debris created by the explosion had almost settled down, allowing for normal visibility. The section of the wall which had collapsed had opened a path to parts of the ruins previously sealed off. Tolfdir had already gone ahead in his fit of excitement, leaving Ivan behind to catch up. Intrigued, Ivan took a few steps to catch up to his colleague, but no sooner had he crossed the threshold of the makeshift opening, something strange happened.

Every muscle of his body cramped up and refused to budge. He was in possession of all his senses, but he just couldn't move. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Tolfdir wasn't doing much better himself.

_What in Oblivion is happening?_

Before his mind could conceive another conscious thought, he saw something else. It's a ghost, he thought. The thing, whatever it was, was humanoid and clad in mage robes. A mage ghost in a Nordic burial crypt. This was turning out to be quite the treat.

"Hold, mage, and listen well..." the ghostly apparition began earnestly, "know that you have set in motion a chain of events that cannot be stopped. Judgment has not been passed, as you had no way of knowing. Judgment will be passed on your actions to come, and how you deal with the dangers ahead of you. This warning is passed to you because the Psijic Order believes in you. You, mage, and you alone, have the potential to prevent disaster. Take great care, and know that the Order is watching."

As the apparition disappeared into thin air, Ivan felt that his muscles had come alive again. Was that partial paralysis some kind of spell?

"What happened?" Tolfdir groaned. "That was rather… strange."

"You saw that too, then?"

"Saw what, exactly?"

"The ghost of the Psijic Order member type person?" Ivan expounded but judging from the look of confusion splayed across Tolfdir's face, he sighed. "I guess not."

"The Psijic Order? Are you quite sure about that?" Tolfdir asked carefully. Ivan could feel the cynicism with which the question was laced, but he didn't mind. Had their roles been reversed, Ivan would have been cynical as well. However, he knew what he saw. "Yes, Tolfdir. I know what I saw."

"I believe you," Tolfdir said finally, relieving Ivan. The older mage starting stroking his beard, deep in thought. "Most unusual. So what did the Psijic have to say?"

Ivan hiked his shoulder in an I-don't-know for-sure manner. "Something about dangers lying ahead and passing judgment on my actions or something like that."

"Danger ahead? Why that doesn't make any sense at all," Tolfdir echoed Ivan's thoughts. "The Psijics have no connection to these ruins. And no one's seen any of their order in a long time."

"Exactly. And even if they did survive, why choose to contact me of all people?" he asked aloud, uncertainty gnawing at his insides.

"I have no idea, but it's fascinating," Tolfdir replied instantly, his voice shaking with what seemed like excitement and glee. "The Isle of Artaeum disappeared over a hundred years ago, and no one has seen them since. And yet now, suddenly, they have chosen to contact you? Why, it's intriguing! If nothing else, I'd take it as a compliment. The Psijics have only ever dealt with those they feel worthy."

That was what the Psijic ghost had told him, more or less. What was going on, well, he would have to wait and find out himself.

"Anyway, shell we press forward?" Tolfdir asked. "Since we have discovered this… chamber, might as well explore it fully. What say you?"

"I'm game. But what of the dangers up ahead?" Ivan asked back, a crooked smirk on his face.

"Well, I have nothing to worry about," Tolfdir returned with an equally crooked grin. "After all, I am accompanied by a mage chosen by the Psijics."

Ivan grunted in defeat. "Fair enough. Onwards it is, then."

* * *

"Well now... would you look at _that_. I never imagined we'd find something like this."

"Yeah," was all Ivan could muster. Tolfdir and he had stumbled into what was a large chamber of sorts; it was one of the largest rooms Ivan had ever set foot it. However, that wasn't what had caught had their attention. At the far end of the room floated was a massive spinning orb of some sorts. It was surrounded by what looked like a barrier of magicka.

Climbing down the stairs, Tolfdir approached the orb to investigate it, Ivan in tow.

"But why is something like that hidden so far beneath Sarthaal?" Tolfdir spoke in a loud whisper. Ivan concluded that the old coot was conversing with himself. He let his gaze linger on the orb before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Tolfdir, mesmerized by their discovery, failed to notice.

Acting on instinct, Ivan reached out and grabbed Tofdir's robes and pulled him aside, just as a spike of ice whizzed past where Tolfdir had been a mere second earlier. The old mage landed on his rear in what was a rather non-eloquent manner. Ivan didn't have the time to be gentlemanly.

A fraction of a second later, a bolt of lightning came at Ivan, who promptly countered by forming a Ward with his left hand and throwing out an Ice Spike of his own in the direction of his mystery adversary.

There was a loud crunch, followed by a sound similar to the splintering of glass. Ivan maintained the Ward, just in case there was retaliation. But nothing happened.

"What just happened?" Tolfdir asked, rising to his feet.

Ivan opened his mouth to reply but a loud thump interrupted him. And then there was another, followed by another and then another. Ivan waited patiently as a rather intimidating looking Draugr emerged from the shadows. It was armed with a staff, Ivan noticed straightaway. That meant it was capable of using magic. _Beautiful._

Ivan saw that it had an Ice Spike sticking out of its left shoulder blade, something which the Draugr proceeded to pull out with its right hand and crush whatever remained of it between its fingers. Ivan frowned and fired another Spike, which hit the Draugr right between its eyes, resulting in the Draugr's head snapping backwards from the impact. Its neck jerked and the head just hung limply behind his shoulder like a satchel bag.

"Now that's something you don't see every day." Tolfdir commented. Ivan was inclined to agree with the old man. But then something even stranger happened. The Draugr's body started glowing with a ghostly greenish light. The amulet began to pulse in sync with his heartbeat again.

He was then subject to a rather grotesque sight. The Draugr placed its hands on the sides of its head and snapped it back in place. Then the glow subsided and Ivan's amulet stopped throbbing.

"Okay. Now that is definitely not something you get to see every day."

Tolfdir's sentence was drowned out by a deafening roar from the Draugr before the thing charged at Ivan.

"The orb! It's making the blasted thing invulnerable!" Ivan cried out to Tolfdir as he rolled to his left and dodged a wild charge from the Draugr. "Sever the connection somehow!"

"On it!" Tolfdir called back as the Draugr fired a ball of flames at Ivan, which he countered with his Ward. But it wasn't enough to completely stop the attack. The Ward absorbed some of the Firebolt's power, but ultimately it collapsed and the weakened Firebolt hit Ivan squarely on the chest, lifting him off his feet and slamming him back first into the far wall. As he slid down the wall and landed on his bum, he could feel the warmth of his own blood as it trickled down along his cheek.

The son of a bitch had split his head open. It was an insult to his pride!

"So, you like it rough, huh?" Ivan muttered and placed his left palm on the floor. The floor froze and a jet of ice ran along the floor, snaking its way towards the Draugr. With his right hand, Ivan cast a Restoration spell and watched as the jet of ice running along the floor stopped at the foot of the zombie and burst into a jagged column of ice, impaling it through the stomach. Since the spike was rooted to the ground, there was no way for the Draugr to move; unless it broke the ice spike puncturing its torso.

However, the body of the Draugr started to glow with a dull orange light and Ivan realized, to his horror, that it was a Flame Cloak. The flames melted the ice spike and the thing was free once again.

"Okay, attack it now!"

Ivan looked at Tolfdir, who was the source of the voice. He found the old man casting some sort of lightning spell at the oversized orb. The Draugr, having his source of power cut off, turned his attention towards Tolfdir. Before it could take a step towards its new target, Ivan shot a Lightning Bolt at its back, returning the favour. He was, however, surprised to see the Flame Cloak be replaced by a Storm Cloak, making the Draugr look like a miniature Storm Atronach.

Having been attacked, the Draugr graced Ivan with its attention again. This time, Ivan tried a basic Ice Spike, but the Storm Cloak was gone, changing instead to a Frost Cloak. The ice projectile hit the Draugr squarely on the chest, staggering it, but it otherwise remained unaffected.

Ivan clicked his tongue. Even without the orb sustaining it, this alternating elemental shield would prove to be troublesome. If direct attacks wouldn't work, he would have to resort to something else. And fast.

Ivan narrowed his lids at the Draugr which was now making its way back to him. Pocketing his left hand, he held out his right and clicked his thumb and middle fingers together.

However, nothing significant happened.

The Draugr had paused in its steps when it saw Ivan hold his hand out. Now that nothing had happened, it took another step towards the Nord mage… only for the ground below its foot to explode into ice spikes.

The Draugr howled in pain, but recovered enough to continue its advance. Ivan clicked his fingers again and this time, the Draugr stepped on a Flame Rune. No sooner had the explosion occurred, Ivan placed a Lightning Rune behind the Draugr. The undead being, dazed from the impact, stumbled backwards and right onto the Rune, triggering another explosion.

This went on for several minutes. Ivan simply stood in one spot and planted Runes all around the Draugr by anticipating its footfalls. When the Draugr fell onto its knee, Ivan knew the end was close. Without wasting a moment, he put an Ice Spike through the thing's head and kept his guard up even when the Draugr fell on its side. Only when the light faded for its eyes did Ivan breathe a sigh of relief.

"Is it dead?" Tolfdir asked from his position, disengaging the spell he had been maintaining. Ivan nodded. "Well, it was dead already, so… whoa."

The exclamation was not without cause, however. The magickal barrier surrounding the orb had started to dissipate before flickering and fading completely in a matter of seconds.

Was this somehow connected to the Draugr's re-death?

Ivan walked back to the Draugr and knelt beside it as Tolfdir fell upon the orb, finally having been provided with an opportunity to examine the… whatever it was. Ivan picked up the Draugr's staff. It was beautiful, he noted, but ancient. He looked back at the Draugr.

"You're one old motherfu-" he began but paused when his fingertips grazed against something uneven on the staff's body. He looked back at the staff, squinting to make out what it was, but it turned out to be a fruitless endeavour; there wasn't sufficient light in the chamber to read properly.

Not one to give up, Ivan wove his fingers and muttered a simple incantation, casting a Candlelight spell. As the small ball of light bobbed happily over his head, Ivan examined the staff minutely. Along the shaft was an inscription of some sort. Uneven, yet legible.

Jyrik Gauldurson.

Ivan looked at the Draugr in surprise. The name was vaguely familiar to him. According to Urag, the College had an Arch-Mage named Gauldur once upon a time who had been murdered by his sons. Jyrik was supposed to be the eldest of these sons. Ivan shook his head and stood. The staff, he took with him. Mira would find a display case for the thing.

"So, what do you think that is?" Ivan called out to his colleague.

Tolfdir, not taking his eyes off the orb, hollered back, "I have no idea! This is amazing! Absolutely amazing!"

Ivan could guess what was coming next.

"The Arch-Mage needs to be informed immediately. He needs to see this for himself!"

Ivan nodded. _Right on_, he mentally clapped himself on the back. It was safe to assume Tolfdir wanted _him_ to be the bearer of said news.

"I don't dare leave this unattended," Tolfdir continued animatedly. "Can you return to the College and inform Savos Aren of this discovery?"

_Bull's eye_. "Why me? Why can't you go?"

"Well," Tolfdir started stroking his beard innocently, "Surely you aren't so stony hearted as to let a feeble old man such as myself make a four hour long trip, are you?"

"Uh-huh." Ivan replied. "And what should I tell him, exactly?"

"Let him know that we've unearthed something… well, I'm not sure," Tolfdir confessed. "Something unique, let's say. It's clearly magickal in nature." The old mage flicked his thumb at the orb, "But unlike anything I've ever seen before. He should be most interested."

"Yeah, sure," Ivan replied, suddenly tired. All he wanted now was a nice, long snooze… especially if he could coax Mira into joining him. The woman did work a lot. Too much for her own good. Ivan shook his head and turned on his heel. "I'll see you back at the college then, old man."

* * *

**Kai**

"Do you speak Owl?"

The boy merely looked up at him, curious; Kai simply smirked.

"How do you speak Owl?" Lyon finally asked. "Is that even possible?"

"I'll teach you then," Kai cupped his hands around his mouth and make a shrieking noise which sounded like _Who-cooks-for-you._

Through the branches overhead, the pale moonlight illuminated them. The pond before them reflected the silvery rays of the moons, giving the nearby trees a nigh ghostly appearance. In the distance, Kai heard a sound: _Who-cooks-for-you_

"Wow," Lyon whispered in wonderment. "You actually did it."

"Don't you think you're underestimating a bit, kid?" Kai smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. "Alright. Let's see if we can reel him in."

Kai repeated the exercise several times, and each time, the reply sounded closer and closer until it came from an evergreen directly overhead.

"See, that bird's thinking now, 'who's that son of a bitch owl that's trespassin' on my territory?'" Kai whispered with a small smirk.

"Stop terrorising the poor bird, mister," Lyon whispered in response.

"Just having a conversation, is all," Kai said in a not-so-hushed tone, spooking the owl and causing it to flee. When the sound of flapping wings had faded in the distance, Kai sighed. "Look what you've done now, Lyon. You've scared away our guest of honour."

Lyon merely snorted and shut up, seemingly enjoying the serenity. Kai closed his eyes and recalled what exactly had led to the current scenario.

All because he had made a promise to take the brat out to the woods. He frowned. Carrying all that straw had all been for naught. Kai had waited for two days before giving up on that particular kill. Hopefully, he would catch a break sometime soon, or so he hoped.

"Hey mister," Lyon said suddenly. "Why do sabre cats turn into man eaters?"

Kai shifted on the grass. Something was poking his butt and it was irritating. Upon inspection, he found that it was a small pebble. _Pebbles are evil_, he thought and threw it at Lyon's face before sitting down properly to answer the boy's question.

"Cats turn into man-eaters because of mostly two reasons: old age or injury accounts for it nine out of ten times," he began. "See when a cat gets old, it's bound to lose a few claws and teeth, thus hindering its chances of catching its natural prey. Same with injuries. Suppose a cat attacks a porcupine and gets a face full of quills. It tries to take 'em out with its paws and ends up injuring those too. Hence, it cannot chase after elk or deer anymore and must resort to easier, slower prey: man."

Lyon nodded.

"However, this one is different," Kai said mostly to himself. "Judging from its stride, it can walk pretty easily and therefore, no signs of injuries prior to Baknar's arrow. It's young by cat years, definitely. There's also no shortage of prey around these parts."

"So why did it turn into a man-eater?" Lyon asked curiously.

"The man-eater has been has been active in these parts for the past eleven months. That's roughly a month after the Dragonborn slew Alduin. In other words, around the time the Civil War restarted." Kai was silent for a while. "Do you know what the Legion does when there are too many dead bodies on the field, Lyon?"

Lyon shook his head from side to side.

"See, be it burying or burning, it takes too much time," Kai said. "You can't afford to waste that kinda time on the fronts. So, you stick a live coal in the mouth of the dead body and send it floating down a river."

"That's… disgusting." Lyon scrunched up his face to mirror his feelings.

Kai shrugged. "Simple, efficient and not time-consuming. My best bet would be that our cat happened to come upon a steady source of food back in the beginning of the year. When a man-eater tastes human blood, it gives up on its natural prey. We know that it has killed twenty-three people in eleven months. Truth is, it has eaten almost double that amount, if not more." Kai ignored Lyon's gasp of surprise. "And when the War ended, so did the steady supply of dead bodies. Thus it became more active in taking people from settlements. This problem of taking people from settlements has been around for only a couple months before my arrival, if I'm not mistaken. Right?"

Lyon nodded uncertainly as their owl friend hooted in the distance. "I guess so, yeah."

"Then this creates another problem," Kai muttered. "Hear the owl? It's signalling to its buddies on the ground about… something."

"And that's a problem?"

"Hmm? Oh that's not a problem. The problem is our man-eater." Kai cleared his throat. "See, sabre cats don't usually stroll into people's houses. In all likelihood, they fear humans. Yeah, no joke." Kai grinned at Lyon's dumbstruck expression. "Even when they turn man-eater, cats are always hesitant to break into settlements."

"That's why they hunt during dusk!"

"Exactly." Kai smiled and patted the boy's head. "However, this is just a phase. After it gets used to hunting humans, it loses all sense of fear. It can and will take humans from villages in broad daylight. This transitional phase takes about two-three months on average. Our man-eater is about ready to go public… and _that_ is a problem."

Lyon remained silent as the gravity of the predicament began to sink in. Kai scratched the tip of his nose. "One thing I can't figure out is why the damn thing not taking risks already? It could've taken Klimmek. It could've taken the pregnant woman's husband. But it didn't. It's only taking the bare minimum and nothing more. That's… strange."

"Say, mister," Lyon began softly, tearing off a blade of grass and chewing on it. "Why'd you give up on the woman's body? You sat by it for two days. Didn't the cat show up?"

"It did the first day."

"So why didn't you shoot it?"

Kai remained silent a while. "I would have. First night, I was lying in wait, Lyon. I was ready, and I was sure it would show. And it did. Doesn't like to disappoint. I heard it approach, _felt _it approach. But I couldn't see it. I _knew _it was around, somewhere within a few yards of me. It could, in all likelihood, see me. But I couldn't see it. That's a scary experience," he said and leaned back, balancing the crossbow on his knees. "Clouds covered the moon on a couple of instances. Pitch black. I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face, but I could hear it gorging itself. When the cloud cover broke, nothing. Not a trace. This process repeated itself half a dozen times all through the night. She's toying with me," Kai said mostly to himself. "Playing. There were pug marks, but nothing definite. She was a no show the next day. I gave up then, reported the body. Nothing else I could do with that lead."

A cold wind blew through the woods, leaving tree branches swaying in its wake.

"Say, would you like to call some wolves?"

Lyon only stared at Kai's face. "I don't think that's a good id-"

"Ehhh, you know you want to." Kai chuckled. "Let's see if I can get 'em singing."

He cupped his hands around his face, just as he had done with the owl, but this time, he let out a mournful howl.

Across the pond, but still quite far away, a wolf did respond. Kai called again and the first wolf replied. The call was taken up by a second, up on the nearby hills. Then a third and a fourth.

"Some nights, it's easy to get them singing," Kai whispered. "Listen to the music they make. Doesn't it do something strange to your heart?"

"Yes, it does." Lyon took his time in replying. "This is why I want to leave Ivarstead and travel the world. I want to feel such things as this. You can't learn this kinda stuff while trapped within four walls. Right, mister?"

"Exactly."

"And then I'm gonna become a great hero! Like the Dragonborn!"

"Ambitious, aren't we? Well, can't say it's a bad thing." Kai ruffled the boy's hair again and closed his eyes, letting the howls wash over him. It was…cleansing in a way. This music, composed by nature and performed by the true sons and daughters of the wild, was better than any blasted bard any day.

"You got any advice for me, mister?" Lyon asked in a loud whisper. "For when I become an adventurer, that is."

"Hmm. Never stay confined, Lyon. Always strive to expand your horizons," Kai said with a wry smile as the howls died down. "Glory lies beyond the horizon."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Kai**

"On your way up the 7000 Steps again, Klimmek?"

That caught Kai's attention. He was crossing the bridge out of the small village after having gone to visit Ennis at his farm. Well, not exactly Ennis, but Lyon, who semi-worked for the Redguard. The boy had volunteered to take care of Ennis' flock of livestock. Sometimes, Lyon even stayed the night with the animals in the small shed Ennis had erected for them.

"Not today. I'm just not ready to make the climb to High Hrothgar," Klimmek replied with a wry smile to his friend's question… whose name had escaped Kai's memory completely.

"Aren't the Greybeards expecting some supplies soon?" the elf queried.

Kai saw Klimmek rub the back of his neck sheepishly. "Honestly, I don't know. I've yet to be allowed into the monastery."

The elf nodded before spotting Kai. He offered a small smile. "Well, if it isn't the hunter. Have you made any progress with your tracking?"

Kai shrugged at the elf. "It always knows how to cover its tracks; in fact, I'm going up the mountain now to try again."

He saw Klimmek's disposition brighten. "You're going up the steps?" the Nord asked. This caused Kai to wonder whether all the individual specimens of his race were thick headed numbnuts, but refrained from voicing his thoughts, nodding instead.

"So, if it's not asking too much," Klimmek went on, "would you mind taking some supplies to the monastery?"

Kai hiked his shoulders. "Might as well."

"I suppose that solves your problem, Klimmek," the elf said as Klimmek turned his smiling face upon his friend. "I'll be on my way then."

"I'll see you at the tavern in the evening, Gwilin." Klimmek called after his elven friend, who waved over his shoulder, signaling in the affirmative. Klimmek then turned back to Kai. "If you wait here, I'll just run to my home and bring the sack. I shan't be too long."

_So Gwilin is his name_, Kai thought as he nodded and leaned back on the stone bridge.

True to his word, Klimmek arrived within a couple of minutes with a medium sized sack in hand, a burden Kai relieved him of.

"I'll accompany you to the foot of the Steps," Klimmek told him as they started walking in unison. "Thank you for agreeing to do this."

"No need to thank me," Kai replied and slung the sack over his shoulder. "Although, if you don't mind me asking, why aren't you going up yourself?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Kai saw the older man fidget slightly. "Well," Klimmek began sheepishly, "you see, it's about a girl."

_It's always about a girl. Women are at the bottom of everything!_

"It's Fastred."

Kai was mildly surprised. He thought that Lyon's older sister had a thing going with the fisherman guy… whose name Kai had also forgotten. "Isn't she already with someone?" Kai asked, somewhat curious.

"Well, yes, she is." Klimmek sighed, "Look, Fastred is… special."

"Don't I know," Kai muttered. Klimmek smiled at the sarcasm before continuing, "You're associated with her brother, Lyon. So I'm sure you've run into her as a consequence quite often. Fastred is a very childish girl… immature for her age. Her affections change quite frequently. Up till very recently, she was infatuated with me, if you can believe it."

"So what happened?" Kai asked as they crossed the bridge and approached the foot of the mountain. "How'd she end up with what's-his-name?"

"Bassinanus? I don't know." Klimmek sighed heavily. "I used to share quarters with him, you know? We never got along. And when Fastred took to him, I… I couldn't bear it any longer. So I got myself another home. I thought about her all the time. It was around that time that the cat took-"

"Your friend. Yes, I know that," Kai said. Against his will, he empathized with the man. Hearing Klimmek's tale reminded him of himself from a long time ago…

He shook his head. He didn't have the time to dwell upon the past. "So that's why you don't feel like going?"

"No. It isn't that. You see, Bassianus plans to elope with Fastred to Riften. For good." Klimmek sighed again, "I just… I just want to catch a glimpse of her before she goes away."

Kai's temper flared at that. "So what? You're just gonna let her slip away from you? You're just gonna sit on your fat arse and watch? Do you _know_ how pathetic you sound, mate?"

Klimmek was caught off-guard by Kai's sudden outburst and could only wet his lips in response.

"You know, a friend of mine once told me that women, though they know how you feel for them, will always want you to come forward and say it to them. That's one of the reasons which make the wenches _so_ damn evil." Kai continued, "So if you really do want her, if you _really_ want to be with Fastred, you should go and tell her directly, consequences be damned." _Don't make the same mistake I've made._

KLimmek still looked uncertain. "What if she refuses me?"

"So you'd rather live in uncertainty and regret and ponder on the 'what could've beens' for the rest of your life? Be my guest. It's your life." Kai shrugged. "But if you really want something, you should fight for it. That's all I'm saying."

"You know," Klimmek said after a short pause, "I think you're right. I should go tell her how I feel. I might not be able to change her mind, but at least she'll know. Right?"

Kai nodded his assent.

"Thank you, friend. I'll follow your advice." Klimmek said and stopped as they reached the Steps. "This is as far as I go. Good luck. I wouldn't trust the climb."

Kai watched him walk back across the bridge like a man on a mission and shook his head. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a hypocrite.

"Practice what you preach, Kai," he muttered and started his climb.

* * *

He closed his eyes and shivered as the icy wind swept over him, nigh freezing his insides.

It was midday and the Sun was at its highest point in the sky, but it did nothing to warm up his surroundings. Kai stood before the double doors leading to the monastery. It had been years since he had last stood on this particular doorstep; seven years at least. His journey up the Steps had brought back a plethora of memories and for once, Kai had let his mind run rampant. Though logic screamed that reminiscing would be counterproductive to staying alert, Kai really didn't give a damn. The climb to High Hrothgar and the monastery itself held a number of memories for himself.

His very first ice wraith kill. The first time he had properly utilized his Lightning magick. Then there was the time he had knocked out Ivan with a snowball to the balls. Oh, that had been glorious! Or the time when he and Ivan had mixed laxatives in the food and the monks had run around all over the place like their robes had caught fire. _Damn, did they Shout then!_

He grinned and pushed open the double doors, letting his eyes adjust to the semi-darkness. Then he crossed the threshold and closed the doors behind him. He stood there a while, taking in the sights and realizing just how little the place had changed, if it had changed at all.

"A visitor? How strange. After nearly a decade, the student of my student arrives with a sack of supplies."

Kai grinned. He knew that voice. "Old man Arngeir. I'm surprised to see you're still walking. How's the arthritis?"

"I see you haven't lost touch with your sense of humour," Arngeir said as he walked up to Kai, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It is good to see you, boy."

"Likewise," Kai nodded. "Say, where do I put the sack?"

"Oh put it on any of the tables. It really doesn't matter to me," Arngeir said, throwing his arm out and drawing Kai's gaze to the stone tables. "What does matter is what you are doing here."

"Community service," Kai answered and placed the sack on a random table. "I was given orders to put an end to a man eating sabre cat. I had some free time, so I came."

The Greybeard sat upon folded knees on the stone floor and motioned for Kai to do the same. He complied, mirroring Arngeir's posture and placing his palms upon his knees.

"What has become of my student?" Arngeir asked.

"He's dead."

Arngeir didn't say a word. Kai took the man's silence as a signal to continue. "He was… killed while protecting civilians at Helgen two years ago," Kai said and subconsciously clenched his hands into fists. "He died protecting me."

"That's something he would've done," Arngeir muttered. "And what of Ivan?"

"He's probably blowing stuff up at the College. I dunno."

The monk nodded. "You two meant more to Kern than his own life. Did you witness his death?"

"Not exactly," Kai replied. "It's… complicated. I don't want to talk about it, if that's alright with you."

"I understand. However, tell me about yourself. The last time I saw you was when you had completed your apprenticeship and Kern had given you his sword as a reward." Kai glanced at the katana he had placed on the floor beside him. "How long was it again? Ten years?"

"Seven," Kai corrected the old man. "Seven years."

"What have you done with your life?"

Kai smiled wryly. "You know me. Wading through life one mistake at a time."

"Do you regret them?"

"Not a single one."

The Greybeard smiled in approval. "And what have you learned from them?"

"That change is the only constant in life."

"Well said," Arngeir commended him. "It seems that you are walking your own path. Where that road is going to take you-"

"-is for me to decide." Kai frowned.

"-has already been decided," Arngeir completed and smiled again. "There are no coincidences in this world, boy. No matter how random a series of events tend to appear, there is always a connection."

"What, destiny?" Kai cocked his eyebrows disbelievingly. "You're seriously going to sermonize about my destiny?"

"Not destiny, no." Arngeir paused to build up the suspense before continuing, "Inevitability."

Kai stared at the old man for a long moment. "What?"

"It means that no matter what choices you make to shape your life the way you choose, the end result will always be the same."

"So it's all predetermined?"

"Partly," Arngeir tilted his head. "You are responsible for all the choices you make, the person you choose to become. Think of it like this: the seasons change, people die. These are inevitable things. You can do nothing about it. Inevitability is… a naturally foreordained event. A state in which other outcomes are impossible. A result which can only be obtained by a single causality, and all other causalities would necessarily create different results."

Kai slowly nodded.

"You don't believe a word I just said."

Kai nodded again, smirking. "What I believe or don't believe is of little consequence. I came to deliver a sack of… whatever is inside of it and I have done so. The trek down will cost me another four- maybe five- hours, by which time, it will be dusk. I have no intention of turning into cat food if I can help it, so I'll be on my way."

Both men rose to their feet. Kai replaced the sheathed katana in his belt and made for the door, Arngeir in tow. He opened the double doors and looked back at the old monk. "Where are the other Greybeards? Weren't there four of you?"

"Oh, they're out in the courtyard… communing with nature." Arngeir answered. "Watch yourself, boy. The times are a changing. The Era is turning. Perilous times lie ahead."

"Not my problem, is it?" Kai replied and started walking away.

"Inevitably, there will come a time where your hand will be forced. You will have to make a choice," Arngeir's voice boomed from behind him. "What will you do then, I wonder."

Kai paused and whirled around to ask the old coot what he meant but he only turned in time to see the gates shutting with a loud clank. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head, mentally cursing the cryptic old man. Why couldn't they just say it straight?

Shaking his head, he took the first step of his long walk back to Ivarstead.

* * *

The Sun had long since set over the western horizon by the time Kai arrived at the foot of the mountain and stopped for a few seconds to catch his breath. Though the descent downhill had been considerably faster than the trek uphill, he was still winded. There was a time when he and Ivan would have competed to sprint up and down the Steps.

_I'm getting old._

Kai chuckled and shook his head at the thought before strolling up to the bridge. He was somewhat surprised to see the streets devoid of any people. Given the time of day, it was normal for the terrorized people to have withdrawn to their homes. But that didn't quite explain the absence of patrolling guards.

Something was amiss. And in Kai's mind, it translated to the cat having claimed the next victim.

His suspicions were confirmed when he saw Baknar leaning against the Inn's front door. The Redguard had his arms crossed over his chest and his chin sunk upon his chest. When he looked up at Kai, the Nord could see that his fellow hunter was… troubled.

"Where have you been?" Baknar asked gruffly.

"Delivering supplies to High Hrothgar," Kai replied. "Where did it happen?"

"Right here." Baknar replied evenly.

_In Ivarstead?_ "When?"

"Right around sundown."

"Huh," Kai stroked his chin. If only he hadn't taken up Klimmek's offer. "Who was it?"

Baknar hesitated. Kai frowned. So it was somebody among the Redguard's acquaintances. _Tough luck._

"Baknar?"

"Hmm?"

"Who was it?" Kai asked again, expending some of his patience.

Baknar exhaled deeply. "It's Lyon."

For a while, Kai couldn't think. His mind was perfectly blank. He placed his right palm over his right eye and slid his fingers into his raven locks. When he spoke, his voice was the personification of calm.

"Take me there."

Kai's reaction to the news surprised Baknar somewhat. "You… don't seem to be affected by this."

"I don't get paid for being affected," Kai replied coldly. "Take me first to where he was killed. I need to see."

Baknar didn't say a word. He only clicked his tongue and motioned for Kai to follow. Not a word was exchanged between the two as Baknar led Kai to Ennis's house; to the shed where the Redguard kept his livestock to be exact.

Ennis was waiting for them. He didn't make any attempts at conversation and ushered them into the shed. Only when they were inside did Ennis unseal his lips. "Lyon spent the morning shepherding the goats. He had lunch here and as usual, snoozed away the afternoon and evening here. It was around sundown and I had just sat down to smoke my pipe. The boy usually sleeps till the evening before going his merry way. So I wasn't really worried. But then I heard him scream and by the Divines, I won't be able to forget that scream for the rest of my days," the man hugged himself and frowned, "I ran out of my house and I saw the cat carrying Lyon away in its mouth. The boy was still screaming at the top of his lungs for help… and you." Ennis looked pointedly at Kai."It had its teeth sunk into the small of the boy's back and…"

Ennis trailed off uncertainly and shuddered. That was another thing which would haunt him for life. Kai closed his eyes and sighed. In his last moments, a twelve year old boy had experienced being eaten alive by a man eating sabre cat. It wasn't a pretty sight.

Kai walked around the rectangular wooden construct, which was devoid of any livestock at present. There were two square windows on opposite walls, facing north and south respectively. The entrance was due west, facing the Throat of the World. Kai started with the door. There was a big splash of blood on the floor near the window to his left.

"Bolted, but not securely…" he said in a loud whisper, mostly to himself. "Chain links securing the door. The chain would rattle as she scratched at it. Claw marks are clearly visible on the wood. But they are not deep. She was being careful; measured in her exertions. Why? Because she did not want to wake up her snoozing target. The goats would have bleated, panicked at the scent of a predator. But since her target was by now attuned to the bleating of goats, his sleep was undisturbed."

Kai then turned back at the two Redguards, "As we know, this cat learns. It learns from experience. It never got injured, save for Baknar's arrow. It never fell for the traps or the poisoned carcasses. It must have witnessed what happened to the other less fortunate wolves and cats that did and thus steered clear. Marvelous animal, this. It has learned that brute force isn't always necessary." Kai then stood in front of the door, facing his companions. "The cat is now inside. The animals are on edge. Let me guess. None of the goats were harmed."

Ennis shrugged. "Not even a scratch."

"It's too tempting, is human flesh," Kai said and started to walk slowly towards the splash of blood. "Tender flesh… no hide or fur. Then the first bite." Kai looked at the big bloodstain, "She wants to devour him here. But it's too dangerous… the prey has given the alarm and soon, people would be coming to investigate. She wants to enjoy her meal… in private." He then looked at Baknar. "Where's the body?"

* * *

Two miles south of Ivarstead, Lyon's body had been found by the Ivarstead guards. Upon request, they had allowed the family members of the deceased access to the site and that is where Kai found them. The father, Baknar told him, had sought refuge in the tavern and was drowning his grief in alcohol. Baknar feared he would snap when he saw Kai and that's why he had been waiting for the Nord to show up. The mother had been sent back home, accompanied by a guard. However, Fastred was still there at the scene, crying into Klimmek's chest as he held her. He nodded solemnly at Kai, who didn't even respond. His biggest concern was securing the site from the guards, who were still there.

There were five of them and they all turned to Kai when he walked up to them.

"Congratulations on finding the body," Kai said mirthlessly. "Now if you don't mind, I'll need you all to hold your torches together to offer me some light to poke around. Are we clear?"

His tone didn't invite any resistance and thankfully, there was none. Courtesy of the torchlight, Kai soon found the pug marks. "Hmm. Front paws are more deeply embedded in the snow. That's from carrying the weight in her mouth. Drag marks on the snow… only near the body. So she didn't drag the body along the snow until the very moment she set it down. Hmm."

He then knelt beside Lyon's body. The boy lay on his front and the cat had only eaten portions from the small of the back and nowhere else. "Good. Something disturbed her… means she couldn't gorge herself. She'll be back." Kai stood and looked at one of the guards. "I'll need a circle of white rocks around the body."

"Are you out of your mind?" the guard protested, apparently revolted. "You're going to use him as bait? He's somebody's child! Somebody's brother! He needs a proper burial! He deserves one!"

Kai scowled. This was one problem he hadn't had to face before. Nobody had cared about the Vigilant to bury him. Poor bastard had frozen his dead behind stiff before Kai had buried him. Same with the pregnant lady. Kai was the only one who knew about the body's location and he kept it that way. After its purpose had been served, he informed the husband and he made preparations to bury her. He cursed having ever gone up to High Hrothgar but then again, Lyon had screamed, so his presence wouldn't have made much of a difference.

"That, is somebody's _meal_," Kai countered. "Somebody's _unfinished_ meal. And she will be back either later tonight or tomorrow. If you take this body away, the cat will kill again. Do you want that on your conscience? I should hope not."

The guard faltered. He didn't know what else to say.

"Why white rocks?" another guard asked.

Kai sighed and turned to her. "They reflect the moonlight better. More light. Better chance at a successful shot."

"And if there is no moon?" she persisted.

"Then we listen."

"You can listen to a sabre cat's footsteps?" the first guard asked, disbelief dripping from his tone. Kai was nearing the limit of his patience. "Her footsteps? No. Cats spend minutes testing the ground for a single footing." He shook his head. "But their breath… it sounds like the rustling of a silk dress."

"You can hear the breath of a sabre cat." The disbelief had now been replaced by cynicism.

"Yes. And so could you. If you didn't spend all your bloody time lollygagging." Kai said sharply. "Now go find some bloody rocks for the body, eh?"

As the guards grudgingly left, Kai caught movement out of the corner of his eye. With three steps, Fastred had closed the distance between them and had slapped Kai with all her might.

"How _dare_ you! He's not just some _body_! That's my brother you're referring to, you bastard!" she thundered tearfully. "He has a NAME!"

"He _was_ your brother. He _had_ a name." Kai said as he rubbed his cheek. "Fastred, Lyon is fucking _dead_. Accept it. He's lying right the fuck in front of you!"

Kai grabbed Fastred's wrist before she could connect with another slap. "You insolent-"

"Listen to me. Lyon's death is hard on me as well." Kai said. "It hurts. I know. But I have buried too many friends and comrades in the past to be fazed by this anymore. Nah, what I want is revenge. And unless you let me do what I think is best, I can't avenge Lyon."

Kai let go of her wrist and she lowered her hands and looked down at the snow helplessly. "He was too young…"

"Everybody dies," Kai said and turned away. "That's an inescapable inevitability. People in the army… they die every day to protect the masses. So can't a civilian die to protect others?"

"How is that… protecting others?" Fastred asked between sobs and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook with every breath.

"I'm going to kill the cat. There won't be a twenty-fifth victim. I promise over Lyon's dead body that he will be the last." Kai said resolutely. "With his death, he's sealed the cat's fate and protected you all. You should be grateful to him." He smiled softly. "He did become a hero."

Fastred nodded and wiped her tears, letting Klimmek place an arm around her shoulder and lead her homewards.

Kai looked at Baknar who nodded in approval. Kai was about to look at the nearby trees to search for one that could support his weight, but then he heard Fastred calling his name.

"What is it?" Kai asked.

"My brother is dead, Kai. Our family is broken," Fastred said pitifully. "I need your _word_. You _will_ end this nightmare, won't you?"

Kai clenched his jaw. This was always the hardest part. He had been the bearer of bad news to many of the families of his fallen comrades back when he was a dog of the military. He had encountered this particular question often enough. He proceeded to answer it the way he had always done. "You have two good legs, don't you?"

A puzzled look passed over the younger girl's features before she uncertainly answered in the affirmative.

"Then use them and move forward," Kai said and looked up at the sky. "That's all you can do, anyway."

_Leave the rest to me._


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Events of Chapters 13 &amp; 14 take place simultaneously**

**Chapter 14**

**Casair**

Unlike the rest of her faction, Casair didn't restrict herself to Forsworn camps. Neither did she dress like most Forsworn bandits. She had learnt to accept the simple fact that until their kind received recognition, armed struggles would be futile. The Forsworn, as long as they remained true to their customs and traditions, would never be able to match up to the Nords.

Casair dressed like any normal Breton woman. She had always kept her dark-brown hair parted down the middle. That way, her bangs were pushed to the sides and curled neatly below her chin, sparing her the annoyance of having to constantly push hair away from in front of her eyeballs. She took care to avoid public confrontations with anybody, steering clear of potentially troublesome situations whenever she could. This allowed her to travel with impunity.

The incident with Grelod, however, had been an exception.

Casair had felt bad for the boy grovelling at her feet. He had mistaken her for a Dark Brotherhood assassin. She had found him by the Riften canal, trying to jump over the gates, and had decided to investigate the matter. From what the boy had told her, Grelod the Kind, matron of Honorhall Orphanage in Riften, used to beat the stuffing out of the children in a most brutal and humiliating fashion. Aventus, for that was the boy's name, had himself been subject to such beatings often enough. Not only that, Grelod often resorted to starving the children and selling them to slave traders and rapists. Indeed, Aventus had witnessed, on more than one occasion, the lifeless bodies of his former friends floating in the sewers. The guards turned a blind eye. There was a time when the deaths of pre-pubescent children were commonplace. Casair had been moved by the boy's tearful proclamations and had helped the boy escape to his family home in Windhelm..

She recalled the way she had covered Grelod's face with a pillow and plunged her short sword into her throat, through the pillow, and dragged it down to the sternum. The old crone had writhed in pain for a short while before ceasing her struggle. It was then that Casair had removed the pillow and witnessed firsthand the way Grelod's face had twisted in a paroxysm of agony. It was an expression no mortal eyes should ever have to witness. To rid the subsequent discoverer of the body of a recurring nightmare, she had shaved off the dead whore's face.

She sighed deeply as she occupied a seat at the Bee and Barb and ordered a late breakfast. A loaf of bread and some steak would do her good and revitalise her. She had taken few breaks during the long walk from the Reach to the Rift and was famished. The reason behind her visit to the Hold capital was to see for herself the effects of her actions… and to gain some information.

_The culprit always returns to the scene of the crime, s_he thought and smiled grimly as she took a gulp of mead.

_By Red Eagle's figurative feathers!_ This stuff was good! She had come to like the Nords' favorite drink and also appreciate why they liked it so, but this was her very first time trying out Black-Briar mead and she had to confess, this was without a doubt the best tasting mead she had ever had!

Perhaps she ought to buy some for Ailig? _Nah_. Knowing the guy and his hatred for all things Nordic, he would much rather feed it to the fucking goat. Casair frowned. She would rather die than become an accessory to the intoxication of a harmless, albeit annoyingly loud, animal.

"Can this one sit, nya? All other tables are occupied and this one only wants to have a meal in peace. Khajiit promises to not bother the Breton lady, nya."

Casair looked at the Khajiit who had approached her. He was clad in yellowish-orange robes, like those worn by the priests and priestesses of the Divines. The Khajiit had pulled his hood back, exposing his face. He had light orange-ish fur and green eyes. Two earrings adorned his right ear. As a rule, Casair didn't trust these cat people. They were known for being untrustworthy, notoriously so. How was she to know that this particular Khajiit had not murdered some helpless priest and was currently masquerading as one? Now that she thought about it, were cat people even allowed inside the city walls? She doubted it. But this was Riften and money talked here. On top of that, the Khajiit, if he was indeed a murderer, wouldn't try anything in a tavern filled with people. _Right_?

If the catman did indeed attempt something, Casair could always resort to retaliation and she was quite confident in her art of swordplay that she might be able to drive back the potential threat. Giving him a small sigh, she nodded to the Khajiit who responded with a grin of his own and sat across from her.

"Talen!" the Khajiit called out to the Argonian proprietor and placed his order. Casiar looked down at her plate and proceeded to sip her meal in silence, occasionally shooting furtive glances at her companion. The Khajiit was peacefully chewing on his fried fish and true to his word, had not uttered a word. He was a rather curious one, this Khajiit. Of course, Casair had never before seen a Khajiit up close before. She had come across their caravans on her travels, but to actually share a table with one was a completely new experience for her.

"This one is named Omiq."

That caught Casair off-guard. "Huh?"

"The girl has been glancing curiously at Omiq for a while now. So this one thought the girl would be interested in getting acquainted, nya," Omiq finished his fish and wrapped his fingers around a mead bottle. "Clearly Omiq was mistaken. This one offers his most sincere apologies, nya."

"D-Don't apologize!" Casair stammered. "I-It's just that I've never seen Khajiit inside city walls before…"

"And were curious, nya. It's only natural." Omiq smiled gently. "This one is a humble priest of Arkay. As such, this status allows Omiq to travel freely all over Tamriel."

Casair nodded, not believing a word. The Khajiit however, went on.

"This one came to Riften on a journey of enlightenment. However, Omiq digresses," he said and paused. "What is the Breton lady's name? If she does not mind divulging, nya."

"Casair."

"Hmm. Lovely name, that, nya. Not quite Bretonic, however," Omiq observed casually.

Casair swore inwardly. She knew she should have lied about the name. It betrayed her roots blatantly. Now if the cat had enough brains to figure it out and raise the alarm, she would be fucked. _Imperially_.

"Thank you," she forced out somehow. Omiq only smiled and continued eating. He did not say a word and Casair found it difficult to swallow her bread. She could only stare as Omiq slowly finished the last fish on his plate and drained his mead bottle of the liquid before leaning back into his chair and burping satisfactorily.

"The fish in these parts do you a power of good, nya. Definitely better than back in Solitude," the so-called priest of Arkay said with a shake of his head and rose to his feet, placing a small coin purse on the table. "It's been a pleasure meeting the lady, nya. Omiq wishes her a great day and a prosperous journey."

Casair could only nod in response. Why wasn't the cat raising the alarm?

Omiq walked past her towards her, but a coin purse fell from within his robes and the coins scattered all over the floor near her feet.

"Silly me," Omiq clicked his tongue and knelt on the floor and proceeded to pick up the coins and place them back in the purse. Casair was hesitant in lending a hand lest the Khajiit rat her out. But before she could step out of her chair, she heard him speak again.

"Don't be alarmed. I won't tell anybody," Omiq said in a whisper, still counting his Septims, "Skyrim is big enough for all of us… and our secrets. You have yours and I have mine."

The Forsworn girl was stumped.

"You have a Septim of mine under your boot."

"Oh!" she exclaimed and hurriedly lifted her foot, thoroughly embarrassed. Omiq retrieved his last coin and placed it inside his purse. Why had she frozen like that?

"Good day, nya," the Khajiit told her and strode out of the tavern. Casair found herself staring at the now closed double doors. The mysterious Khajiiti priest of Arkay had made a lasting impression on her.

* * *

"Yeah, from what I've heard from the townspeople, it was some two bit crook looking to make a quick Septim," the beggar, Edda, said animatedly. "I don't know why, but he just started screaming like all Oblivion had broken loose. I heard the Guards talking among themselves, too."

"And what did the Guards have to say?" Casair asked.

"I would love to tell you, but I can't remember," the old Imperial replied innocently. "My memory isn't what it used to be, you know?"

Casair scowled and placed another gold piece in the beggar's bowl. She knew that the best place to get information - cheap – would be from a beggar. Regular people disregarded their presence. They didn't even notice them and thus they talk would about things they would not normally discuss in front of anybody else. These disregarded beggars knew the comings and goings of every citizen in the city. However, there was only one way of refreshing their memory, as Casair had learned.

"Divines bless your kind heart!" Edda picked up the Septim and pressed it to her forehead, muttering a silent prayer. She then smiled brightly at the Forsworn girl. "My memory is much clearer now."

Casair tapped her foot impatiently, urging the old beggar to go on.

"The Guards, they whispered among themselves about the killer being a son of the Dread Father himself," Edda whispered and gave Casair a knowing look.

"Dread Father?" Casair asked, tilting her head to the side in her confusion. She had never been very big on religion and whatever little she knew about the Divines and the Daedra, she had come to know through her travels. This Dread Father character was something which she knew nothing about.

"Sithis, my child! The Void! He who is worshipped by the Dark Brotherhood!"

Now Casair understood and the result was a cold shiver which ran down her spine. "W-What exactly does that mean?" she asked again.

"It means that the Guards thought that the person they caught was a member of the Brotherhood."

Casair gulped. Had her actions led to the imprisonment of a member of the infamous guild of assassins? Things could not have gone any worse.

"So what became of him? This prisoner?"

"He was to be executed." _Shit! _"But he escaped on the day of his execution." _Fuck!_

Dazed, Casair dropped another Septim into the beggar's bowl and staggered on her way to the Temple of Mara. They always let people stay the night for free at any given Temple.

Once there, she silently occupied a corner and sat down against a wall and pulled her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around them. It was only then that her predicament was finally sinking in.

She had helped the Aretino boy escape. He had said something about the Black Sacrament; a ritual to call the Dark Brotherhood. Casair hadn't paid much attention to it; after all, he was just a boy. Besides, the Imperials had wiped out the notorious guild of assassins. She had never stopped to consider that the Brotherhood might endure, and that the Aretino brat had made good on his promise.

The Brotherhood agent had been imprisoned, but he was not guilty of the crime. If he had been executed, someone from the family would have found her and killed her. But now that the agent himself had escaped, he would find her and kill her himself.

Casair rubbed her eyes tiredly with the back of her hands. She would have to tread very lightly so as to not leave a trail for anybody to pick up.

She would have to continuously look over her shoulder at every corner for a shadowy figure with a menacing hood and a big-ass sword, ready to cleave her in two for as long as she lived.

With a shudder, she realized that even if the assassin made no attempt to take her life, the fear and anticipation would break her eventually.

* * *

**Josak**

The crossbow was heavy. At least, for an eight year old it was.

He had no prior training with the weapon, but he had seen one of the assassins use the thing before and had learned through observation. He had _borrowed_ it from the assassin- some Nord whose name he couldn't even pronounce. The Nord man was currently busy with a hearty meal. Josak had no problems while he snuck into the man's quarters and took the weapon.

The assassin lady had taken him with her to… somewhere. He did not know where in Oblivion he was; just that the woman had become his instructor or something. Every day, Astrid would put him through what she called _training_. It involved running four miles in the morning, followed by push-ups, sit-ups, squats, swimming, pull-ups, and whatever other pain inducing exercises she could come up with. The afternoons were dedicated to weapons training; mainly a dagger. The evenings would be set aside for lessons in magick from a man called Festus. Josak hated them all.

But he loathed Astrid the most. The woman had massacred his family; taken away his life so to speak.

It was only fair that he take away hers, right?

So it was that Josak was cradling a loaded crossbow in his arms, standing in the shadows outside Astrid's chambers. He peered inside and found the woman sitting on a chair, her left side to the door. She had her legs crossed and was intently reading a book of some sort. Josak clenched his jaw and curled his fingers around the lever.

He knew he had only one chance. All he had to do was point and shoot, after all. How hard could it be?

Sucking in a deep breath, the boy slid out of the shadows and stood at the doorway. With a semi-loud yell, Josak pointed the crossbow at Astrid's head and pulled the lever. What he had not anticipated was the recoil. The boy stumbled forwards and then backwards, tripped on his own feet and fell flat on his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the crossbow bolt had sailed a few feet over Astrid's head and embedded itself into the far wall with a sonorous thwack. The woman in question had not even looked up from her book.

Josak rolled over onto his front and placed his palms on the floor in order to push himself up. But before he could do that, he felt Astrid plant her boot over his left cheek and ear, pinning him to the ground.

"You're too hasty, kid," Astrid said lazily. "If you're uncertain about the kill, never aim for the target's head. It's too small a target and it's hard to aim at. Aim here instead," she said and pointed at her chest. "Even if you miss the heart, the injury can still be fatal."

_Darn it!_

Josak was almost at the verge of tears from his frustration. This was the woman who had slaughtered his family. She was the reason he no longer had a home. This person had taken away his future!

"Also, your arms needs strengthening," Astrid went on. "If you can't even withstand the recoil from a crossbow, then you can take your revenge and bury it."

_Revenge? That's right._

That was the only reason Josak was going through with this. Vengeance was the only thing keeping him from ending himself. He had promised himself that he would kill Astrid with his own hands one day, and by the Gods, he would do it. If it meant he had to become like one of them, then so be it.

"I _will_ kill you," Josak said and glared at the woman as best he could.

"Heh. Your will is strong. For a boy so young…" Astrid shook her head and chuckled. "I'll hold you to that promise, kid. Now go and return Arnbjorn's crossbow before he decides to eat you."

* * *

"Holfy fucking Oblivion!" Josak swore and jumped out of his bed as beads of cold water fell from his hair. Teeth chattering, he pulled off the leather tunic, which was also dripping wet, and hugged himself. "You tryna fuckin' make me shiver to death, you puny little bloodsucker?"

Babette, who still had the wooden bucket in her hand, merely shrugged. "You've been eating and sleeping for the past few days. I thought it was about time to get you back into the world."

"By giving me a fuckin' bed-bath?!"

"Whatever works," the vampire child said and turned on her heel. "Now dry yourself and get to work?"

"Work? What work?" Josak answered, still shivering uncontrollably. He started hopping to warm himself.

"I dunno. Go out there and kill somebody. Don't you have backlog?" Babette snapped and wheeled around again. "For starters, track down the person who stole our contract."

_Oh. The whole Riften thing. Right._ He would have to do something about that, wouldn't he?

His mind conjured up images of Grelod's dead body. _So much blood everywhere!_ He felt warmth radiate throughout his body, causing him to stop shivering.

How he loved the sight of blood! It helped him do so many things!

He looked forlornly at his bed and pulled away the wet blanket and the mattress. He would have to put the darn things out to dry by the fireplace. For now, he had only breakfast on his mind.

After that, he would have to go collect some information.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to PhantomX0990. She is a major reason and inspiration for me writing this story. For those who know, Phan has been out of action for a while but is back now. She's been sick - very sick - and I shan't go into details here. All I'll say is that if you have read and liked this story, go and read hers. Give her all the support you can. Get her to write an autobiography if you can.**

**Phan, I salute you for your iron will, man. There's a fire in you I haven't seen very often in others. You had my respect before, and even more so now. Seriously. I can't do much, but this bit I _can_ do. Stay strong.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Firo**

"You summoned me, milord?"

Firo heard his father get up from his throne and walk over to the fireplace. He remained kneeling. Any change in posture would be interpreted as a threat and thus Firo had to tread very lightly.

"Yes. I did. I have certain… queries."

Harkon did not look at him as he said these words. Firo remained silent. After a few short moments, the Vampire Lord continued.

"You may rise."

And so Firo did. He rose slowly, elegantly. Rising too fast would mirror impatience and eagerness, which were insulting and suspicious respectively. He looked at his father's profile. Harkon was intently watching the crackling embers, and Firo knew that the gears in his head were up to something.

"Come closer, son," Harkon ordered him. There was no affection in his tone. Yet, it was smooth as silk and inviting. Firo, though mentally alert and suspicious, showed no outright sign of such. Measuring his stride, he covered the distance between them in four steps and stood beside his father, arms clasped behind his back.

"Yes, sir?"

"Is there any news you wish to tell me?" Harkon asked. "I grow disinterested in my courtly responsibilities."

This was nothing new to Firo. The Lord barely spent time at his court anymore, instead keeping himself occupied with the prophecy. It was always 'prophecy this, prophecy that' and whatnot. He kept a neutral disposition and began, "Lokil's death has-"

Firo stopped abruptly when Harkon lifted his forefinger and clicked his tongue. "Refrain from boring me with the mundane and the unimportant, boy."

Firo clenched his jaw. As expected, Harkon didn't give a damn about his subjects anymore. All that mattered was the prophecy.

"Any word on the location of your traitor mother or your runaway sister, hmm?" Harrkon looked straight into Firo's eyes as he asked this. Firo held his father's gaze for a long moment, as if searching for some answer of his own. There was something rather… unsettling about his gaze. Firo couldn't quite define it.

That troubled him somewhat.

"Nothing whatsoever." He answered truthfully, resolutely. His father, though a paranoid liar, appreciated honesty regarding the more important matters.

_Vampires and hypocrisy. Nigh synonymous. _

"I see," Harkon hissed and looked away.

Silence fell between the two; the only noise being the crackling of the embers in the fireplace.

"And what of the Dawnguard?" Firo asked evenly. "How long must we keep to the shadows?"

"Soon, my son." Harkon replied. "Soon, Tamriel shall know of the Volkihar. Soon, they shall know fear."

Firo nodded in acknowledgement.

_Soon, huh?_

That meant he didn't have much time.

* * *

**Kai**

An entire day had passed and there was no sign of the cat. Kai cursed his luck inwardly. There had been too many people trampling all over the scene. Cats couldn't smell but they had excellent eyesight. They could remember every minute detail of any given place, especially one where they had kept their meal. If and when they did leave an unfinished meal, chances were that the cat always comes back at least once. But, if anything was out of place, be it a trampled blade of grass or an upturned stone, the cat wouldn't approach the body. They were careful beings, were sabre cats.

And since nearly a dozen people had been on the site, the chances of the cat showing itself were close to zero.

Kai clicked his tongue. This was why he worked alone. Now he had to sit on a godforsaken tree for who knew how long, hoping against hope for the flea-bitten furball to just show up.

Lyon's body had been discovered last night and ever since then, he had been waiting on his vantage point. He had sat there for the whole night and the whole day, without food or water. He couldn't bring himself to leave for refreshments. Every time he looked down at the boy's body, he felt guilty. He didn't want to leave the boy alone. It was probably him attaching notions to a dead body, but his brain wasn't working enough for him to be practical. Not right now, at least.

He wondered how many dead people he had seen over the course of his life. _Countless, no doubt_. How many of them were strangers? How many of them were acquaintances? How many of them were friends? Comrades? How many more would he see dead before his own life was claimed in some way?

But most importantly, just how much more of death could he take?

He looked back on the number of times he had knocked on a fellow soldier's door to inform the family of their loved one's death. He hated being the harbringer of news that could potentially crush a family. It did too, most times. He wasn't a very emotional person, he knew that well. But there was something about the scene of people supporting each other in times of grief; really mourning someone's loss… a person who was considered expendable to the people he fought for. It made Kai wonder, nobody would be behaving like this when his time came. He had nobody like that. Nobody to call family. In a way, he was blessed because nobody would have to feel broken or sad because of his eventual death. At the same time, he felt deprived. It was sad that he had nobody, absolutely nobody, who cared enough to feel even a little bit sad.

Kai wasn't one to complain, however. But he did feel guilty at how he continued to survive. Shouldn't it have been him who took a stray arrow and died and not some guy with an infant daughter and a wife to go home to? For a long time, these thoughts would plague him and little by little, he learnt to give his emotions a back seat; to completely detach himself from the pesky doubts and voices screaming unfairness. He didn't need to pity himself. He was just doing his job and that was all he needed to know.

But right now, looking at the lifeless body of a boy he had known for about two months, he felt his resolution waver a bit. Omiq had always said that when people were taken before their time, it was a sad thing. Kai understood now. This kid was so full of energy and life; he had his hopes and dreams regarding the future. He wanted to grow up and be a hero, which though naïve, was a good enough goal to aspire to for a twelve year old. Kids didn't deserve to die, Kai thought with some bitterness. But then again, who did? Most importantly, how does one decide whether a given individual deserves death?

He didn't know. Kai looked back at the countless lives he had claimed with his own hands and frowned. Was he feeling remorse? He doubted it. He didn't know whether each individual had deserved it, but he knew he had done the right thing.

He had done the right thing, hadn't he?

The man grunted and smacked his forehead in frustration. He had agreed to give up Lyon's body the next day for a proper burial and it was already two hours past sunset. He mentally chastised himself for losing it, leaning his head back against the thick bark of the tree. Rubbing his temples, he allowed himself to sigh. This was going nowhere and he knew it.

Subconsciously, his thoughts turned to Lyon. The boy had wanted to be big hero like the Dragonborn. Lyon's quirky and childlike ways were a welcome change from the hypocrisy of adults. Kai had grown attached to the annoying little bastard. He would miss him.

"Dunno if they have a post-mortem Hero-wannabe playground for you dead kids up there somewhere," Kai muttered and sighed again, "but I could really use some help right now, buddy."

There was no moon, nor a pesky northerly wind. The forest was devoid of its usual sounds as well. There were no barking deer, no hooting owls or howling wolves. It was as if the area had been enveloped in the cold embrace of silence.

Since there was no natural light, Kai couldn't see Lyon's body as clearly as his night vision would allow. He had told himself that if he could not kill the cat tonight, he would pack up and leave. There was nothing more humanly possible that he could do, was there?

He opened his eyes and mentally slapped himself for thinking that way. If he didn't finish up his work now, more people would die. The scales were already tipped in the wrong way. But even more than that, he owed it to the annoying little munchkin. His pride wouldn't allow otherwise.

Kai found himself thinking back to the times Lyon had gotten under his skin. From calling out to wolves to carrying bundles of straw to poking around with the dead body of the cat he had shot… there was a lot they had done together in the short span of two months.

He blinked. Something Lyon had said came crashing back to him. It was the day they had gone back to look at the cat he had killed. During that particular conversation, Lyon had said that sabre cats were fiercely territorial. Kai found himself getting an idea. He mentally thanked his little buddy and balanced the crossbow between his knees. He then cupped his hands around his mouth, sucked in a deep breath and roared.

Kai figured if the cat wouldn't come willingly, he might as well force her to show by appealing to her curiosity. _Curiosity never fails to kill the kitty_, he thought as his roar washed through the forest, disrupting the eerie stillness. Mastering various animal calls had taken Kai a good few years but it was an invaluable asset he could not do without.

He waited for a few long moments before letting out another roar, letting any sabre cat in the vicinity know that there was a new young male in the area. He hoped that his man eater, having her curiosity piqued would respond. And she did.

There was a reply from a cat within the next ten seconds and from what Kai could judge, it was within a couple hundred yards. So she did come snooping around her stale food. Before Kai could call again, there was another growl, this one sounded closer. She was covering the distance fast. He inwardly smirked and settled for a low, aggressive growl this time. This was to firmly deliver the message that she was in for a fight for her territory.

And then Kai waited. There were a couple more roars from the opposition and then nothing. The raven haired Nord sat stock still on his tree, surrounded by darkness and silence. He strained his ears for the faintest of sounds. For a while he could hear nothing. For Kai, the silence was deafening. Since there were no winds, he couldn't hope to catch the cat's smell either.

After what seemed like an eternity, before he could hear anything, he felt another presence, closing the distance from behind. Kai didn't move, silently urging his heart to stop beating erratically lest whatever it was pick up on the sound. He tried regulating his breathing and for a while he succeeded, but his breath hitched just as his ears picked up a familiar sound.

It was a sound like the rustling of a silk dress, and it came from directly underneath the branch Kai was sitting on.

He restricted his movements as best he could so as to not completely give away his position. He only moved his eyeballs to better grasp the cat's movements since he feared he would spook his target if he moved his head.

Kai could faintly see the dark outline of the elusive sabre cat as it lumbered towards Lyon's body. She was probably here to carry off her unfinished meal to her den before it was claimed by the apparent newcomer. At least, that was what Kai theorised. Ultimately, the reason was secondary. It didn't matter as long as he could capitalise.

He saw the cat bend its head over where Lyon's corpse should've been. The only problem was that Kai was facing the cat's rear end. Not the best angle to take a shot from. However, Kai took this opportunity to slowly prop the crossbow up and line his eye with the crosshair.

_Show me your side, you evil little dumbfuck…_

He could see the cat lift Lyon's body off of the ground and start to turn around in order to retrace its steps back up the mountain. Problem was, Kai couldn't quite figure out where Lyon ended and the cat began. He clicked his tongue and allowed his instincts to take over… which meant pointing and shooting randomly.

It was a split-second decision and Kai went with it. The cat would have had her side to him for about three seconds and Kai pointed at what he thought would be the cat's neck and squeezed the lever. With a muffled _clang, _the bolt flew. There was an almost simultaneous growl from the cat followed by soft thud as she dropped Lyon's body and ran back the way she came.

Hastily pulling back the drawstring with his goat's foot lever, Kai loaded another bolt and jumped down from his tree, landing on his feet before rolling, covering the bolt with a thumb so that it didn't fly off. He quickly cast a Candlelight spell and looked at Lyon. The boy now lay on his back, starting up at the sky. His face was miraculously not twisted in pain, but his expression was difficult to read. Kai sighed and knelt beside his former protégé and shut they boy's eyelids. His jaw was clenched tightly from the overwhelming pain he must have endured. Kai patted the boy's head once before getting to his feet and tracking the trail of blood left behind by his target.

There wasn't enough blood to call it an active trail. There were a few splatters here and a few there. Kai had to use his Candlelight spell to actually search for the blood before he could think of tracking the beast. Following an injured man eating sabre cat up the slopes of the Throat of the World in the dead of the night with nothing but a flimsy sphere of light dangling over one's head while depending on said light to constantly check the surroundings for an angry sabre cat lying in wait… it was a rather tiresome experience.

The sporadic blood droppings meant that the animal hadn't been wounded seriously. That would have given it enough time to get very, very angry. Kai frowned. He just loved his luck.

Four hours into his pursuit, Kai chanced upon a spot which boasted a large splattering of blood. She had apparently rested here. Kai was halfway to the summit. Any higher would be Frost Troll territory and not even sabre cats messed with those three eyed bastards. He reasoned that since the cat had rested for a bit, she must have felt secure. It wouldn't be wrong, then, to assume that she would have her den nearby, would it?

If that were the case, he would have to tread more carefully than before.

Slowly, Kai took the next few steps. He didn't have to go far. Rounding a corner, Kai stopped short as he heard the cat call out. Neither was it a growl nor a roar, but something akin to a shallow, throaty gurgle. Kai had heard this particular call before and he should have known what it signified. But his brain refused to spend time on comprehending this at the moment because what he saw had caused him to drop all conscious thought.

The sabre cat was about forty five yards in front of him, standing before a cave, making that weird throaty sound. She had led him right to her lair. Kai folded his knees and entered a combat crouch, pointing the crossbow at the cat's exposed side. He calmed his wildly pounding heart as best he could and sucked in a deep lungful of the fresh mountain air. He lined his eye with the bolt's tip and paused to make adjustments to counter the effect of gravity on the trajectory of his bolt.

And then with practiced ease, Kai pulled the lever between the valley of two heartbeats, releasing his breath as he did so.

He watched the bolt slice into the cat's throat, severing its windpipe. The bolt exited through the other side of the throat and finally struck home in a nearby boulder. The cat swayed from the sudden impact before her legs gave way and she toppled onto her side.

Kai stood and calmly placed another bolt into his crossbow before throwing a couple of pebbles at his victim. Only when the cat didn't show any response to these atrocities did Kai approach the cat's body.

_It's over._

Two months of labour and it was finally over. The Ivarstead man-eater was dead. Somehow, Kai didn't feel satisfaction from this particular hunt. Something was wrong. He frowned as he knelt beside the now dead sabre-cat and examined it with the help of the first rays of the sun. Running his fingers through the cat's thick coat, Kai smiled wryly. It was soft and smooth… a lot like silk. At first glance, she was about seven feet in length from tip-to-tip; from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail.

It was at this moment that a low throaty growl emanated from within the cave, causing Kai's gut to clench.

_There's more than one?_

Still on one knee, Kai pointed his crossbow at the cave entrance, squinting in order to make out whatever in Oblivion was in there. The throaty growls slowly increased in volume and Kai could only tighten his grip on his crossbow.

It was a torturous few seconds for the hunter. But what followed caused his heart to skip a beat for a wee second.

It was another sabre cat. But it was only a cub and roughly the size of a dog. It completely disregarded Kai's presence and went up to the dead female, still growling. It was when it nudged the dead cat's forehead with the tip of its nose that Kai finally understood what was happening.

This was the man-eater's cub. _Her child_. This was the reason why she was always against taking unnecessary risks because she knew that if something happened to her, her child would starve. This also explained the mysterious fox bites. There were bites from a smaller animal on every kill Kai had encountered so far. He and Barknar had thought that it was the doing of a very daring fox. Oh how wrong they had been.

The throaty growl that the mother had used was a very specific call. Cats used it to call to their cubs.

The entire train of thought was complete in about a fraction of a second now that his brain was functioning at normal speeds. Kai shook his head and looked at the cub which had now resorted to nudging its mother's face with its paw and calling to her repeatedly.

Kai got to his feet. If he left the cub like that, it would probably sit by its mother's body and starve to death. It didn't look like it could hunt on its own. Man-eater cubs didn't turn into man-eaters themselves most times. True, the first food they would taste would most probably be human flesh but as long as they branched out from their parent before becoming an accomplice to hunting people, it wouldn't turn into a man-eater.

Right then, Kai found himself in quite the dilemma. Should he end the cub right now, thus giving it an easy escape and ridding the area of another possible man-eater? Or should he just leave it be, hoping that it survived and didn't become a terror like its mother?

All his life, Kai had held true to a single ideal; that of balancing the scales. If by killing one person he could ensure the safety of five, he would do it. If by slaughtering a hundred he could save several hundreds, he would do it. He had never wavered on a decision before. He had killed his fair share in the Civil War.

As he pointed his crossbow at the cub's face, Kai's mind told him to pull the lever. But for some reason, he found it incredibly difficult to do so. He wondered why it was. Maybe it was the pathetic air surrounding the situation. Maybe it was the fact that the cub was looking directly at the crossbow. Maybe it was because some measure of humanity had crept back into his soul during his two year absence from the fronts.

He smiled at the last thought. Shaking his head, Kai lowered his crossbow.

Perhaps he was going soft after all.

* * *

"Not going to join in the festivities?"

Kai stopped packing his knapsack and looked up to see Barknar leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. Kai shook his head and stuffed his journal into the sack, followed by the inkwell. "What's there to celebrate, anyway?"

News of the man-eater's death had spread like wildfire all over the Rift once Kai made it back down to Ivarstead with the cat's skin as proof. The body, he had buried up on the mountain near the cave she called home. The skin was on display publicly in the Inn and was open for everyone who wanted to pay a visit. They came too. People travelled from all the nearby villages where the apparent Daedric cat had struck if only to spit on the skin. Ennis however, was absent.

Lyon's body had been laid to rest the same day, but Kai thought it best if he didn't show up for the small ceremony. The family was in mourning and an outsider's presence would be unwelcome.

It was already three hours past sunset and Kai knew that Maven would stop paying his bill the moment word got to Riften, if it hadn't gotten there already.

And so, since he didn't have two Septims to rub together of his own, he had decided to bail after dinner.

"Well, just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done," Barknar said again. "We'll miss having you around here, Kai."

The Nord stood and slung his satchel over his shoulder. "I'm pretty sure 'we' consists of you and Wilhelm."

Barknar chuckled and held out his right hand, which Kai shook.

"Any plans on where you'll be going?" the Redguard asked as he walked Kai to the Inn's front door.

"Falkreath," Kai replied and nodded at Wilhelm before pushing the door open and stepping into snow. "I hear they have some sort of problem, what with a girl being mauled and all."

"Ah. Well, best of luck in your endeavour, friend," Barknar said, closing the Inn's gate. "Goodbye."

"Yeah. Goodbye." Kai said softly and turned to walk away. The Guards were still serenading loudly in the streets, he observed. Kai paid them no mind. They had been on edge for nearly a year and deserved a break.

He shook his head again sighed. They wouldn't understand the truth. He doubted anyone would.

The people were celebrating the demise of a bloodthirsty demon killing people for its amusement. _The truth? A mother struggling to feed her young._ They believed in an undead Daedra which didn't know death. The reality was far simpler; that of survival at any cost. Nobody would _want_ to understand.

Beasts were heartless wretches, Kai had heard people say. But were people so different? Didn't everybody want to survive, to ensure the survival of their species? To not endanger the safety of other and take proper steps to do so? Kai smiled wryly.

That was why he had told nobody of the cub, and neither of the second, smaller burial mound by the mouth of the cave. Nobody needed to know.

If beasts were indeed heartless wretches, Kai thought, he was no different from the so called beasts he hunted.

* * *

**Marcantonio**

The old Imperial man stood at a cliff overlooking Ivarstead on the Throat of the World, supporting his frame on a cane. He was dressed in fine, courtly clothes and could not help but smile widely as his companion poked around the pair of graves at the mouth of a small cave.

"You like what you see, don't you?" the Imperial asked over his shoulder and got a loud harrumph in response, much to his glee. His companion presently got to his feet and slowly walked up to him, his feet crunching against the soft snow.

"Is this why you called me out here? To inspect a couple of graves?"

Maracantonio looked at his companion and smiled bemusedly. This man was clad in light armour and carried a spear in his hand. His expression was one of utter irritation.

"Oh, no. No, no. Not at all, dear brother. Or friend. Or brother-friend. Say, what is it that you are to me again?" The armoured man opened his mouth to speak but the Imperial quickly cut him off. "Ah, it doesn't matter. I called you out for… business. But first, what do you think?"

The spearman raised an eyebrow. "What the Oblivion kind of question is that?"

"Come on. Be a good brother-friend and humour me."

Marcantonio smirked as his companion shook his head and sighed. It was always fun to be a pain in the bottom.

"He's good," the spearman said in praise. "Better than most of the lollygaggers we have these days."

"You want him, dontcha? The way he played with your Daedra blessed kitten? C'mon don't be shy!" the Imperial man said and nudged the other man in his ribs with his cane. "Admit it."

Swatting away his cane with the blunt end of the spear, the man answered humourlessly, "Yes, as a matter of fact. I'm interested in this hunter."

"I thought you'd say that," Marcantonio said and stroked his beard. "I am too."

"Hmm?"

"As much as it pains me to say this, the man _does_ have an aptitude in hunting," the old man clarified. "But he also has an itsy-bitsy air of madness about him. It might not be apparent now, but I assure you, I see it! Smell it, rather. Or did I hear it? Never mind the little things, but I'll tell ya right now. All he needs is the right … push."

"Where exactly are you going with this?" the spearman asked while watching his companion demonstrate the pushing part with his palms.

"Hmm. Remember back in the day where I challenged you and beat your bottom? Haha! You should've seen the look on your face!" Marcantonio guffawed before suddenly turning serious. "You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"How can I ever forget?" the man replied and clenched his hands into fists.

"Good. I'm here to propose a rematch of sorts. Should be fun. Whaddaya say, huh?"

"…I'm listening."

"I say we both go for him," Marcantonio said. "Whomever he decides to follow ultimately is the winner. What say you, brother-friend?"

"Huh." The spearman thought a while before replying, "Agreed."

"Also, I'll let you make the first play since you lost last time and I want to show you how much of a good sport I am."

"Smells of charity," the armoured man replied. "But I'll take you up on your offer. Who knows, maybe I can derive some sort of amusement from this… game."

"Oh I tell ya, it'll be fuuuuuuuun~" Marcantonio said and clapped his companion on the back heartily. "Now how would you like to go get some cheese?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**Ivan**

It was well before sunrise when Ivan made his way to his chambers and collapsed on his bed. He didn't understand why Mira was so adamant about not being found together. The whole College knew they were lovers. There was no room for scandal. She stated that it would be embarrassing if somebody came across Ivan leaving her room in the morning and so she kicked him out every morning before dawn.

It was a pain Ivan thought and sighed into his pillow. They didn't get to spend much time together on account of their individual workloads. Ivan himself had to take care of the College's paperwork. Mira, on the other hand, was in charge of the College's administrative duties, which was a lot. On a good day, they would be able to talk for a couple hours during the course of the entire day. The only time where they could be completely free was at night. But being kicked out every morning was frustrating.

He rolled around in bed awhile before coming to the conclusion that any prospect of sleep had been effectively destroyed. Being the kind of person who could not simply laze around in bed when there was no chance of rest, Ivan got to his feet and decided to walk around the College premises.

Pulling on his robes, Ivan emerged from the Hall of Countenance and made his way over to the main courtyard, rubbing his palms together to generate heat against the cold. _Winter has come early_, Ivan thought. If this was how cold the first few days of Sun's Dusk would be, he wondered what the next couple of weeks would be like.

He pulled open the great double doors leading to the Hall of the Elements and stepped inside, pulling them shut behind him. The Hall was warm enough and it would help him to not catch his death of cold. The Hall of the Elements was the lecture hall of the college. He recalled how he had been an ambitious and arrogant apprentice on his first few weeks here, nearly seven years ago. How things have changed since then…

Indeed, the greatest change, and addition, to the Hall was the large spinning and levitating sphere he and Tolfdir had found in Saarthal. It had been transported to the College and the Hall of the Elements had become its new home. It had been there for about a couple of weeks.

"Up early, I see. Couldn't sleep?"

Ivan offered a smile to his colleague, Phinis Gestor. Phinis was the College's authority on Conjuration magick and, like him, was a former student at the place. Like all the other faculty members and apprentices, Phinis had been entranced by the artefact. He had assisted Tolfdir in trying to comprehend just what in the blue blazes the thing was. Several people had their own theories regarding the subject.

"In a way," Ivan replied, approaching the Breton to stare at the sphere. "Haven't been getting much sleep lately."

"All loved up, eh?"

"Somewhat." Ivan answered with a weary smile in response to the Conjurer's grin. "What're you doing here? Don't tell me you've been skimping out on sleep over this… thing?"

"Ah, no. I just needed to go to the Arcanaeum, but Urag hasn't opened the place yet," Phinis said while stifling a yawn. "So here I am."

"Let me guess. You were going to pull out 'Night of Tears', right?"

The Breton shrugged. "Tolfdir recommended it."

"Good luck. Urag won't part with it easily," Ivan said and whistled. "Say, don't you have any theories yourself regarding what this is?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it a theory." Phinis rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Merely conjecture and hypotheses."

"Still," Ivan pressed and sat down on the floor, leaning back and supporting his weight on his palms, "I'm curious. You and Tolfdir have been spending more time with it than most men devote to their wives. You must've come up with something or the other, right?"

The Breton Conjurer considered this. "Well, there is no indication that, as has been rumoured, the object is in fact a physical part of Magnus. You know, the God of Magic?"

"Yes, I know who Magnus is supposed to be."

"It has been suggested that the object is a gateway to Aetherius," Phinis continued, "but nothing has proven the idea one way or another. Additionally, it has been proposed that the object," he swept his hand and motioned at the Eye, "is in fact the entirety of Aurbis in one physical space."

Ivan raised his hand. "Then what you're trying to say is that that Tamriel, and by extension, all of Mundus, the Void, the planes of Oblivion and Aetherius are contained within the sphere?"

"Indeed." Phinis nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "It further suggests that we are somehow outside our own existence while looking at it."

"Well, that's certainly… interesting."

Ivan heard his colleague chuckle. "While the idea seems dubious at best, it has not, at present, been entirely ruled out." The Conjurer then turned and looked down at Ivan, "So there you have it. That's all we've come up with thus far."

"_You_ there."

Ivan groaned when he recognized the voice and turned to look at the person it belonged.

"I would speak with you," Ancano said, looking directly at him. The Altmer was a Thalmor operative and had been appointed advisor to the Arch Mage by the Embassy. Ivan wondered about the number of reports Ancano had to write in order to keep his bosses updated regarding College activities.

"What for?" Ivan asked and got to his feet. "It's too early for someone to have caused an explosion."

"Well, allow me to clarify the situation. I'd like to know _why _there's someone claiming to be from the Psijic order here at the College," Ancano said crisply, clearly short on patience. "More importantly, I'd like to know why he is asking for _you_ specifically."

_Balls_, Ivan thought and frowned at Phinis, who was looking between him and Ancano pensively. Well, Ancano didn't know about his… encounter with the Psijic ghost. That much Ivan could gather from the elf's speech.

"So we're going to have a little chat with him, and find out exactly what it is he wants."

Ivan knew that the Psijics had clashed with the Dominion on various occasions and thus it was natural for Ancano to be all riled up about this. "Lead the way," he told Ancano tiredly and looked back at Phinis who mouthed a 'Good luck'.

Ivan appreciated the sentiment but wishing somebody luck never really got anything done. "How'd you know where to find me?" he asked Ancano as he fell in step behind the Altmer.

"I had previously visited your quarters in the Hall of Countenance. Observing your absence and marks that your bed had been slept in, I deduced that I would find you by the artefact," Ancano elaborated while climbing the stairs to the Arch Mage's quarters. "And I was right, was I not?"

Ancano flashed a brief yet cocky smirk as he pushed open the double doors and went inside, closely followed by Ivan. The Nord tried not to groan. The annoying Thalmor had been a pain in the backside of nearly everybody, be it student or faculty.

"Ancano," Ivan heard Savos Aren call out. "That is you, I presume?"

The Altmer opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out. Curiously, Ivan observed as time seemed to slow down until it completely stopped around him. He was further surprised to find himself capable of movement. Ancano had stopped mid-stride and the Arch Mage had been caught in the process of getting up from a chair.

"Well, this is new," Ivan said. "You Psijics seem to pull out one trick after the other from within your robes, huh?"

The only other person in the room eerily resembled the ghost he had seen in Saarthal, except now he looked quite solid-ish.

"It's good to see you in person," the Psijic monk said with a chuckle. "My name is Quaranir, mage."

"Ivan Asarsen," the Nord replied. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I simply wish to speak with you. I have given us a chance to talk privately, as you can see for yourself," Quaranir spread his arms wide to illustrate his point, "but I can't maintain this for long, so I must be brief."

Ivan nodded and Quaranir went on, "The situation at your College is of dire importance. We would have contacted you via the visions you have already seen, but have been unable to do so. We believe that the object… The Eye of Magnus, as your people have taken to call it, is the cause of this. You see, the energy coming from it has prevented us from reaching you until now." Ivan opened his mouth to speak, but the Psijic cut him off, "The longer it remains here, the more dangerous the situation becomes. And so I have come here personally to tell you that it must be dealt with."

"So, uh, if the situation is as dire as you say," Ivan said, sounding slightly cynical, "why don't you or your Order do something about it?"

"I'm afraid it isn't that simple." The Altmer shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "You see, the Psijic Order does not typically… intervene in events. Not directly, at least. Moreover, my presence here will be seen as an affront to some in the Order, and as soon as we have finished, I will be leaving your College. I am all too aware that my presence has aroused suspicion, especially in Ancano, your Thalmor associate." Quaranir elaborated with a shrug, "Nevertheless, my Order will not directly interfere. You must take it upon yourself to do so."

_Great. Just keep piling the fucking responsibility on my shoulders. Make me the High King of Skyrim while you're at it, why don't ya?_

Massaging his temples, Ivan sighed deeply. "So what exactly is the problem, anyway?"

"As I'm sure you have deduced by now, the Eye is an object of immense power. The world is not ready for it and if it remains here, it will be misused."

"Oh?"

"Indeed, many at the Order believe it has been already," Quaranir went on, unperturbed. "Rather, something will happen soon… something which cannot be avoided."

Ivan tried not to lose his temper. This monk believed that the Eye or whatever would be misused by the College and had the audacity to say that to his face while at the same time asking for his assistance? Trust begot trust, last he checked.

Quaranir continued, "We believe that your efforts should be directed towards dealing with the aftermath, but we cannot predict what that will be."

When Ivan didn't respond, Quaranir concluded his speech. "I fear I have already overstepped my bounds with the Order, but I will offer this: seek out the Augur of Dunlain. I believe his perception may be more coherent than ours."

Ah, the former student who turned himself into a wibbly wobbly mass of ethereal knowledge. Tolfdir had eaten his ear off with stories of the Augur. From what Ivan could remember, he could be found down in the Midden.

"That sounds great and all, but I just have to ask you this one thing," the Nord said finally. "Why should I trust you or your Order?"

Whether he would follow this Psijic's instructions all hinged on how he decided to answer that question.

"I presume you refer to Ancano's distaste for the Psijic Order?" Quaranir asked with a raised eyebrow. When Ivan didn't make an effort to respond, he sighed and said, "The Thalmor see our Order as a threat because we have power, and we will not allow them to control us. I assure you, we mean you no harm."

And Ivan found himself believing this person. Their mutual dislike of the Thalmor was enough to convince.

"Alright," he told the Psijic. "I'll see what I can do."

"You have my gratitude, Ivan Asarsen," Quaranir said and heaved a sigh of relief before hastily adding, "and of the Psijic Order, no doubt. But I am sorry I cannot offer you with further help. This conversation requires a great deal of effort on my part, you see."

Ivan mentally agreed. Must be hard keeping people suspended in temporary stasis, he thought.

"Now I must leave you," the Psijic said. "But we will continue to watch over and guide you as best we can."

Ivan watched with wonderment as the Psijic's body gradually started emanating an ethereal glow and started crumbling into a mass of energy. Before the small glowing sphere completely disappeared, Ivan heard Quaranir's voice say, "It is within you to succeed. Never forget that."

Before he know what happened, there came a brilliant flash of blinding light from where Quaranir stood and when Ivan opened his eyes, everything seemed to have returned to normal.

"It is me, Arch Mage," Ancano said, picking up the conversation as if nothing had happened. "I have brought- what trickery is this?!"

"Well, where's this Psijic you were on about?" Ivan asked, sounding irritated. "Don't tell me you've dragged me up here for nothing."

"Yes- no- but I- _you_!" Ancano snarled and turned to Ivan. "I'm sure you have something to do with this!"

"I recall it was _you_ who came charging into the Hall of the Elements and disrupted the sanctity of the place," Ivan countered and stepped forward, invading the elf's personal space. "It was _you_ who went about investigating my chambers to enquire about my whereabouts and whether I had slept in my bed. _Your_ actions reek of suspicion, Ancano."

The Thalmor agent wet his lips and backed away. "We'll see about this," he said softly and turned on his heel, stalking away at a furious pace.

"That was quite… something."

Ivan turned to the elderly Dunmer to see he had a bemused smile playing across his face. The Nord merely shrugged. "It's something my brother once told me," he said. "Cowards tend to run with their tails between their legs if you step onto what is theirs, in this case, space."

"Your brother… the one who is a Captain in the Imperial Legion?"

"Was," Ivan replied. "He retired from active duty after the incident at Helgen."

"Hmm," Aren stroked his beard and sat back down on his chair. "You seldom speak of him, this brother of yours."

"He's… different," Ivan sighed. "I don't really think there is a word in our language which is appropriate to describe just _what_ he is."

"Oh? You hold your brother in high regard, it would seem." The Dunmer chuckled and said, "Anyway, about the Psijic…"

Ivan tensed.

"Do you have anything you wish to tell me, Ivan?"

"Uh, I would, but I have nothing concrete that I have to report," Ivan said truthfully. "I will investigate this matter. If I come with something, I will let you know."

"Fair enough." The Arch-Mage said, pulling a fat book onto his lap, and started sifting through its pages. Taking the gesture to mean his dismissal, Ivan turned on his heel and walked away.

He still had a big bundle of paperwork sitting on his desk. On top of that, a few members from the Synod Council would be arriving the following day and he would have to make arrangements should they choose to stay. However, his main concern was meeting with Mira during her lunch break.

Delving into the Midden and its appalling stench wasn't exactly very high up in his list of things to do.

* * *

**Josak**

There were a few days when everything seemed slow and boring. There was nothing new to be seen or done. All one could do was sit quietly in a corner and fiddle with their meal with a fork.

Josak was no exception to this. He currently occupied a bench in the Solitude botanical gardens and had been doing so for a quarter of an hour. He watched people go about their lives without a worry in the world. No, that wasn't entirely true. The sole purpose behind the creation of the botanical gardens was to alleviate stress of the citizens. As such, it was only natural to find smiling faces all around.

He could see children with a wide grin on their faces, running around and investigating each and every specimen of unusual or foreign flora while their parents followed them around with smiles of their own. Man and Mer both crowded the place on the slightly frosty Sundas morning. Josak had himself indulged in a brief tour of the place, mainly the specimens imported from Valenwood. _That place grows some really strange shit._

The Listener leaned against the backrest and looked up at the sky. He would not lie, he was slightly jealous of the people who surrounded him. They had it way too easy. These kids… they were growing up without having their lives infested with chaos. They didn't have to worry about survival; they knew they had their parents to depend on.

_Must be nice…_

He closed his eyes and grinned. He knew he had the power to end their sweet lives right then and there and take away their comfort. _Just like that_. But since he was in relatively good mood, he didn't feel like pulling out the Blade of Woe. He had not come there to embark on a mass murdering spree anyway. No, he had travelled to Solitude in order to meet someone… someone who has _horrendously_ late.

"About toime you asked for a meetin', mate," Delvin Mallory said softly as he took a seat on the bench directly behind Josak's, keeping his back to the assassin. "The fellers up at the Guild were worried about whether you were dead or somthin'."

"And you're late," Josak said, taking care to keep his voice low.

"Aye, 'ad a bit of trouble findin' you. But I'm 'ere, ain't I?"

Josak chuckled. He liked Delvin. "That you are."

"So, lemme guess. You wanna find the person who stole your contract, roight?"

"Mhmm."

"But you've got no bloody clue where to start. That about roight?"

"Mhmm again."

"Boy, what're you gonna do without me?" the Breton shook his head and smiled. "I'll tell you what I know, okay?"

"That's all I ask for," Josak said. He had known Mallory for over a decade. Apparently, Mallory had fucked up a Guild contract and killed someone. Gallus, the then Guildmaster, sent him to stay with the Brotherhood until the heat died down. Josak had been twelve then. For the next three years, Mallory had been a resident at the Sanctuary, performing Brotherhood contracts. He had had a brief fling with Astrid at some point, but Josak had never asked either of them about it. Even after he went back to the Guild, Josak and he had crossed paths several times. Mostly, those had to deal with Mallory giving Josak some information which would help him out with a contract. It was a funny thing indeed how some things just didn't change despite the passage of time.

"Truth is," Delvin wet his lips, "I 'ave no bloody clue meself. But I do know it was a girl."

"A girl?" Josak asked, surprised. "How can you be so sure of that?"

"A 'lil birdie told me," the Breton answered crookedly. "We 'ave eyes and ears everywhere, mate. Don't question our information. It's like a slap to the face, y'know?"

"Sorry." The assassin quickly apologised. He hadn't thought that it could be the handiwork of a girl. It was… _too magnificent_. Josak found himself grinning madly. A woman after his heart, this girl was. "What does she look like, d'you know?"

"From what I 'ear, she's a Breton. Slim build. Fair complexion. Blackish-brown 'air. Golden eyes. She carries a couple of short swords."

"Huh. Where can I find her?"

"No bloody clue, boy," Delvin said and whistled.

"Well, do you know anybody with a bloody clue?"

"As a matter o' fact, I do," the Breton thief answered. "Right 'ere in Solitude."

"I'm listening."

"There's a restaurant 'ere by the name of 'Little Elsewyr', yeah? Place has great fish, but doesn't get many customers. The owner of the place is a Khajiit, an information broker. You can try your luck there. The cat's connections are deeper than ours, I daresay," Delvin answered and stood up, stretching his arms. "It's getting' bloody colder every year, eh?"

"Probably," Josak answered but didn't turn to look at his contact. "Where is this place?"

"Look for it yerself. Place has an Orc standin' outsoide, handin' fliers to everybody," the thief supplied as he walked past Josak, making his way outside the botanical gardens. "'ard to miss."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**Reina**

Nothing ever went according to plan. There would always be a few factors which were overlooked or unaccounted for. Said factors always had a habit of interfering and fucking shit up. And if one thing went wrong, usually it would be accompanied by countless more.

Reina knew all this from personal experience. And she did her best to take countermeasures for any such anomaly which might occur. She tried to, at least. Whatever she couldn't do, she left up to Lady Luck. This final tactic had yet to fail her ever since she became a Nightingale.

But she couldn't always rely on her luck to get the job done; especially this next heist at Solitude. It was a job of a rather high magnitude and that meant greater risks. Planning for such an event was no meagre task. But to her credit, she had neatly gathered all the ingredients and was well on her way to preparing the most effective recipe. All that was missing was one particular ingredient.

"Has anybody heard from Vipir?" she asked everybody in earshot without looking up from the piece of parchment spread out before her. "He's been gone for over two days without correspondence."

"Oh Vipir isn't one for sending letters, he ain't." Cynric Endell spoke from his bed.

"Aye," Rune agreed with a grin while sharpening his steel dagger at the grindstone. "Knowing Vipir, he'll probably run all the way from Falkreath if he had news."

Rune's comment brought forth a snorting and coughing frenzy among the inhabitants of the Cistern. Even Reina smirked and shook her head at the small joke. It had taken some effort, but her presence at the Guild had lifted the veil of gloom which had apparently settled over its members. It was no surprise that Mercer's betrayal had devastated the morale of the group. Reina's recent stint of reclusive behaviour didn't necessarily do anything to lighten up the atmosphere either.

It was really amazing how her mere presence could inspire such change. Well, her presence and her smile. Brynjolf had told her a long time ago that the boss should always be smiling no matter what because it kept the others refreshed and boosted their morale. She didn't want to admit it, but her brother's advice had been spot on.

Focusing her attention back at the piece of parchment before her, the redhead yawned. She had procured a map detailing the various entry and exit points of the great city of Solitude, public or otherwise. After completing the job, she would have to escape and as such, needed a safe and easily available route.

No sooner had the laughter died down that the sanctity of the Cistern was disrupted once again by the sound of stone slabs grating against one another followed by the appearance of Sapphire's lower body on the ladder. Reina watched her drop down to the ground as the annoying noise stopped, signaling the marble coffin had slid back into place.

"Any sign of Vipir?" Reina asked Sapphire without exchanging pleasantries. Time was of essence and finding the final ingredient, or failing to do so, would mean a lot of changes in her plans.

"No sign of him, no." Sapphire frowned and placed a folded piece of parchment atop Reina's desk. "But he has sent word."

"He actually _wrote_!"

"By the Divines! Vipir grew up!"

Reina rolled her eyes at the babble which had broken out and unfolded the parchment, skimming over its contents before sighing in relief. Vipir had accomplished his goal.

"Sapphire," she said, catching the Nord thief's attention, "I want you to run to the stables and get that Redguard boy to deliver these letters which I'm about to write."

So saying, the redhead furiously ran her quill over a piece of parchment with a twisted grin splayed across her face. She was aware of the look of apprehension on Sapphire's face, but paid no heed to it. She completed her letters in record time and neatly folded the two together, writing Vipir's name on the fold of one of the letters and handing them to her subordinate.

"Am I your unofficial errand girl now?" Sapphire scoffed as she accepted the letters. "I didn't sign up for this, you know."

"I know you didn't, sweetie," Reina answered with her signature smile. "But this is quite possibly the most important step to this job. If we can do this properly, we're halfway there. I'll tell you what, you do this for me, and I'll have a job waiting for you when you get back. That sound alright?"

As Sapphire left on her way to complete her errand, Reina smiled to herself. If all went well, things would get pretty lively in Riften in the days to come.

* * *

**Conrart**

The Harbringer stood alone in the training grounds of Jorrvaskr. In his right hand, he held a seven and a half foot long winged spear, his weapon of choice. It was nigh midday and the inhabitants of the great mead hall were occupied with either work or lunch, allowing Conrart to conduct a small experiment without the risk of interruptions.

He held his spear up over his shoulder and took measured steps back till he was roughly sixty feet away from the archery targets. Taking a deep breath, he hurled the spear towards the bull's-eye, exhaling as he did so, and watched the spear tracing an arc in the sky as it sailed towards its target. Before it had the chance to hit the target, he filled his lungs with the fresh Skyrim air and shouted, "WULD!"

Before he knew it, he stood facing the circular targets, his back to the descending spear. Spinning on the ball of his left foot, he turned a full 180 degrees and caught the projectile in mid air as it sailed past where his head had been a fraction of a second ago. Successful, Conrart smiled and twirled the weapon between his fingers skilfully before stabbing the bulls-eye.

The Whirlwind Sprint shout was indeed his favourite.

"Well, that's a great party trick you have there, Harbringer. Are you preparing for the New Life Festival?"

Conrart's cheeks flushed red instantly and he shuffled his feet shamefacedly. "Just having some fun, is all."

Vilkas chuckled and approached him while Conrart retrieved his spear. "Have you thought about what you'll do?" Vilkas asked Conrart. "Regarding the High Queen's invitation, I mean."

Conrart sighed and started walking, hands clasping his weapon behind his back, Vilkas in tow. "Elisif requested the Dragonborn's presence at the Blue Palace on account of the New Life festival," he said. "You're worried you'll have to go too, aren't you?"

Vilkas nodded. "The Companions don't usually partake in matters of petty politics and the like. Elisif the Fair only wants to garner the support of the people and having you, the Dragonborn, on display as a valued ally is sure to turn some heads."

"I agree, Vilkas," Conrart replied as the pair climbed the steps to the Skyforge, "I turned down the Legion's offer to fight in the Civil War, didn't I?"

"Indeed. And what are you going to do about this latest… thing?"

"I'll go."

Vilkas stared at Conrart for a while, holding his gaze before sighing and staring out at Whiterun's Wind and Plains Districts. "With all due respect, Harbringer, I do not approve of you being a showpiece for someone else's power struggle."

Conrart reached out and clapped Vilkas on the back, causing the warrior to stumble forwards. "I appreciate the sentiment, Vilkas," he said with a grin, "but I'm not thinking about it that way."

"Oh?" The Nordic lycanthrope asked. "So what do you think of it?"

"It's a festival, Vilkas. It's for the people to have fun, to wash off their worries and bathe in the beautiful lives they do have," Conrart said and shook his head. "The people have been tense for far too long. The Civil War, the Dragon Crisis… these events have taken a toll and now that they're over, the people deserve a little change.

"These are trying times, my friend, and we must keep hope. It's what keeps us going. This festival, to me, is a celebration of hope. A celebration dedicated to the people, to reward them for holding onto their belief that better days were coming. As such, everybody, including the Companions, can and should take part, if they feel so inclined."

"Well, that's certainly… one way of putting it."

"I'm tired of always looking at things from a pessimistic point of view," the Dragonborn sighed. "It's exhausting. I want to believe in those rare good things which do happen, you know? I want to have hope too."

Vilkas could not bring himself to say anything in response.

"Besides," Conrart spoke up with a grin, "I can't say no to free food and wine and unlimited mead, now can I?"

With a grin of his own, Vilkas said, "You missed out meeting maidens, Connie."

He immediately cast his glance at his feet, "I- I don't do that anymore. I took an oath to stay alone."

"More like you can't because you're hopeless at talking to women. If I remember correctly, you asked Saadia if she liked spoons."

Conrart shot his guffawing companion a withering look. "Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny."

"Spoons? Seriously?"

"It can happen to anybody, damn you!"

"Mate, if only you were half as good at talking to girls as you are in battle, you would have had a harem to your name," Vilkas grinned and clapped Conrart on the back, returning the favour. "But anyway, back to the point. If you want to attend the festival, you're free to do so. I think Torvar will be happy to join you."

"I'm sure. Hey Vilkas, I've stuck to my oath for three months. I'm good, aren't I?"

"Heh. Sure you are, Connie. Sure you are."

"Is that sarcasm?" Conrart asked Vilkas who only hummed in response and started descending the stone stairs. "It's sarcasm, isn't it?"

"Maybe." The brunette responded in his best impersonation of a mysterious voice.

The Harbringer pouted. "You're all mean!."

* * *

**Omiq**

Business was slow as usual. Sitting behind the counter, the Khajiit leaned back into his chair and crossed his legs over the countertop and leafed through _The Lusty Argonoan Maid_ almost lazily. He had read the play enough times to be able to recite the entire first volume without any difficulty. The second volume he found a bit tricky, but given enough time, Omiq knew he could memorise it as well.

Having returned from his little excursion of enlightenment, the Khajiit had pondered on what he would do with his new found knowledge. True, the old Knights of the Circle were aware of a prophecy which told of the Sun's apparent disappearance. Details were, however, scarce. Whatever was available was vague at best. The tomes spoke of Elder Scrolls and a mystic bow once wielded by the Gods themselves. Though Omiq couldn't dismiss these, he didn't really have any facts.

The sound of his front door opening pulled him from his thoughts. The Khajiit looked up from his book to see a Nord blocking the doorway. He watched the man close the door with his foot and approach the counter. Omiq brought his feet down but remained sitting. He knew this person wasn't here for food. A couple years of experience had taught him to differentiate between the two types of customers he had.

"You're the information broker, eh?" the Nord said and grinned at him before occupying a barstool. "I've been referred to you by the Thieves' Guild. You must be good, huh?"

Omiq took a moment to look over this person. He wore a rough-spun black tunic with matching trousers and what looked like leather boots and was well-built with bulging muscles. _Indeed, his build might even rival that of Ghorbash._ His upper arms and shoulders were especially beefed up. _Probably from using a one handed weapon like a scimitar._ He had a typical pale Nordic face, as most people of Skyrim did: fair and worn. His mop of flaming orange hair fell over his shoulder and the nape of his neck and was in need of a trimming. His face betrayed nothing and was even friendly to a degree, but his brown eyes told a different story. Those were the eyes of a man who had seen a lot of death. The Khajiit knew that his own eyes mirrored the same look. Omiq concluded that he had a mercenary on his hands and smiled right back.

"This one is undeserving of the praise the Nord most graciously piles on him, nya," he replied modestly. "True, Omiq makes a living out of selling intelligence, but he can never hope to emulate the Thieves' Guild."

"Whatever you say, catman," the orange-head said with an ear to ear grin. "Enough chit-chat. I wanted to get some information."

"That is easily got, nya."

"I've heard about how you operate, so I'll pose my query first," The mercenary said. "I want to know who it is that killed Grelod the Kind. I know that it's a Breton girl with a slim build, fair complexion, blackish-brown hair, golden eyes and carries a couple of short-swords. Ring any bells?"

Omiq's mind conjured up images of the girl he had dined with in the Bee and Barb a few days ago. The descriptions matched. Besides, he did hear unsavory rumors about the girl being in Riften at a time coinciding with Grelod's murder from his source, Maul. That man saw everybody coming to or leaving Riften. It was too much of a coincidence.

_The murderer always returns to the scene of the crime._

"This one thinks he knows your girl, nya. But before that, this one has a question of equal magnitude for the Nord."

"Fire away."

"What is the flame-head's name, nya? Is he a pure Nord?"

"People call me Josak," the warrior replied with a chuckle. "As for my race, my mother was a Nord and my father an Imperial. That answer your questions properly?"

"Certainly," Omiq purred and rubbed his palms together. "The one you seek is named Casair. And she is Forsworn, nya."

The man, now identified as Josak, sat with a grin on his face so wide, Omiq caught himself thinking if his facial muscles ever tired.

"Forsworn, eh?" he chuckled. "Interesting. Very interesting indeed. You have my thanks."

Omiq watched the Nord get up and turn on his heel and walk to the front door. His stride was peculiar, however. It was much like his own, Omiq thought, shaped by military training. The Khajiit couldn't recall having served with this person while he was in the Legion, and he never forgot a face. Besides, this Josak was too young to have served in the Great War. And if he wasn't from the Fourth Legion, then he might have been a Stormcloak. That was the only thing which came to mind.

The Khajiit replaced his feet on the countertop and picked his book back onto his lap with a shake of his head.

It was curious how lives seemed to intersect, almost as if written by some great writer up in the heavens.

* * *

**Kai**

The light stung his eyes when he tried to open them and he closed them quickly. He tried to lift his arm to shield his eyes from the light, but found it incredibly hard to do so. In fact, he could not move his arms at all, or any part of his body. It felt as if somebody had sapped all of his strength.

He could hear a voice. Though he could understand what was being said, he found he couldn't hear properly. The voice apparently came from far away and was warped in a way. It was like hearing somebody talk while being underwater.

What was going on? Where was he?

He found he couldn't remember.

The last thing that he _could_ remember was leaving Ivarstead, headed for Falkreath Hold. There was the case of a little girl being mauled by an animal. But that was not what had happened. Straining his mind, he tried to remember what had happened.

He drew a complete blank for a few extremely long, frustrating seconds. But then the memories came crashing in with full force. The vivid pictures swirled around his head like a whirlpool. For a few moments, he couldn't place them in sequence. Kai's head throbbed and he grunted in pain.

But he remembered. He remembered the man in prison, his proclamations of innocence and remorseful weeping. He remembered the man's plan to free himself from a curse, remembered how he had transformed into a werewolf and escaped, leaving behind a silver ring. Memories of tracking a white stag came next, followed by scenes of slaying it. These were followed by images of conversing with a spectral stag which had apparently risen from the slain animal's corpse. What words were exchanged, he couldn't recall. But he did remember sprinting as fast as he could to… somewhere. Somewhere with bright crimson moons which seemed to have been drenched in blood…

Here he felt his memories overlap with something else. Something more sinister. The bright red moons became progressively smaller till they were no larger than rubies. The night sky grew darker, as if moulded by ebony. He heard a noise… much like the flapping of wings, but more powerful… several times more powerful.

The darkness with two rubies was shifting shape. In a matter of a few moments, Kai felt suffocated. It was as if he had inhaled smoke and it was burning his insides. He heard screaming. The smell of burning corpses assaulted his nostrils. He tried to look around, but the darkness was all-encompassing. Instead, Kai found himself staring into the two crimson orbs which he now recognized as eyes. A mouth opened below the eyes with an agonizingly slow speed and Kai could count the dagger-like serrated teeth which were attached to the ebony maw with the bright orange light which came from within the creature's forked tongue. It was almost as if the tongue was on fire…

And then he heard the single most bloodcurdling shout fathomable. It shook him to the core, his ears ringing. The shout had nigh deafened him, but he seemed to have caught the words contained within it. There were only three…

_YOL… TOOR… SHUUL!_

Kai snapped his eyes open, breathing heavily. The sight of thousands upon thousands of stars in the inky black sky greeted him. His clothes were damp and stuck to his skin uncomfortably. Kai placed his right forearm on his forehead and found that he was sweating. He didn't know where he was, but he realized that he was lying on a relatively hard, unpolished surface.

_Definitely not a bed_, he thought.

He tried to sit up, but his ribs complained painfully at his effort and he decided to stay down.

Had he gotten into a drunken brawl and been thrown out? _That would explain a lot_. He tried to move his head to the side. It was all dark to his right. To his left, he found a man sitting cross-legged in front of a fire. He was a good five feet away at least, staring into the dancing flames contemplatively. He was topless and all he had on, as far as Kai could tell, was a pair of tattered trousers. Kai felt better knowing that there were other people besides himself who couldn't afford new clothes.

But that ruled out the possibility of being in a town quite emphatically.

"Fuck," he muttered and closed his eyes again, trying to remember what his nightmare had been about. A cold wind swept over him, chilling his body as the sweat evaporated. He cursed again.

"Are you awake?"

Kai reopened his eyes and turned his head to the left. Even though the shadows from the embers danced over the man's gaunt face, Kai could make out his look of concern.

The raven haired Nord tried to speak, but no words came out. That flustered him to no end. Trying to sit up, he found that his left arm was somewhat stiff from the shoulder down. He pushed his right palm against the floor and achieved a half-lying position, supporting his weight on his left elbow. However, the wind left his lungs as he did so and he was forced to collapse onto his back again.

"Don't strain yourself," he heard the man say as he tried to catch his breath. "You did take a good beating."

"Wha… what…"

He was aware of something cool and hard being pressed to his lips. "Drink," the man said and placed his hand under Kai's head, lifting it off the ground a few inches. "Your throat should be abnormally dry."

Kai didn't care what was wrong with him, but he complied. The water was refreshing. Taking a few greedy gulps, Kai pushed the glass bottle gently away from his mouth. "Thanks," he told the stranger.

"Don't thank me. It's the least I can do," the Nord man said and sat down beside him. "You did save my life, after all."

_I did?_

"Who are you, exactly?" Kai enquired.

"You don't remember?"

"I wouldn't be asking otherwise."

The man cracked a grin at the weak attempt at sarcasm. "My name is Sinding. I am a werewolf."

That jogged his memory. "You… You're the person who was charged with murder, right?"

"Indeed," Sinding replied and placed the bottle of water to Kai's lips again as the hunter started coughing. "The same. What's the last thing you remember?"

Kai closed his eyes. "Red moons, and… and-" He stopped abruptly and shuddered as the contents of his nightmare came rushing back to him. The ghost of the Helgen incident wouldn't leave him be, it would seem.

"And?"

"And that's it," Kai frowned, "I was hoping you could tell me more. Can you?"

"Certainly," the lycanthrope answered and leaned back, resting his palms on the ground and looking up at the stars. "You see, I tried to control these wild urges of mine. Suffice to say, I didn't quite succeed."

"So you decided to steal Hircine's Ring, hoping it would help. Yes, I remember that much."

Sinding stared at Kai for a while. "Indeed. But that didn't work either. Say, how much_do_ you remember?"

"It's all a blur, to be honest," Kai confessed with a shrug which forced the air out of him again. How he hated bruised ribs. "But I do remember killing a stag and talking to its ghost."

"You… you really spoke to the ghost of the stag?"

"Well, yeah," Kai told the wide-eyed Nord. "Why?"

"Ahh. What you conversed with was actually the aspect of Hircine."

"Oh yeah. I remember now. The thing did say something like that, I guess."

Sinding merely stared at him in disbelief. "You're something else, you know that?"

"What? Just because I completely disregard the presence of a spectral stag claiming to be some sorta Daedra it makes me special?" Kai raised an eyebrow and reached out for the water bottle.

"That would be why, yes," Sinding sighed with a shake of his head. "So what happened then? Do you remember?"

"The thing asked me to kill you and collect your hide."

The lycanthrope was silent for a bit before replying, "Yet you decided to help me instead. Why would you do that?"

"Honestly," Kai attempted a small smirk, "I don't take kindly to being told what to do."

"Thank you," Sinding said and Kai could clearly make out the gratitude in his tone. "And I think I owe you an explanation as to why you're on the ground and hurting all over, don't I?"

"That would be much appreciated."

"It's quite simple, really." Sinding spoke again, "I watched you enter Bloated Man's Grotto- yes that's what this place is called," he said before Kai could even frame the question. "I thought that you had been sent here to kill me, like the others. So I hid, since I was hopelessly outnumbered. But I kept an eye on them all. I-"

"Excuse me, but who are 'others' you speak of?"

"What? Oh." Sinding cleared his throat upon being interrupted. "They were other hunters sent to kill me. There were eight of them, excluding the few that came before and whom I dispatched."

"I see." Kai closed his eyes tiredly. The sharp pain in his ribs was slowly starting to subside. "Carry on."

"Right. Well, you ran into these other ones and a few words were exchanged. Basically, they wanted to recruit you to their cause and you refused, stating that I had been punished enough and didn't deserve to die." Here he paused to drink some water. "They responded by shooting an arrow at you. Nicked your right cheek, I reckon."

Kai traced the long, shallow scar running along his left cheek with his fingers. He said nothing.

"But then you whipped out your crossbow and shot the man in the throat," Sinding shook his head. "While you did so, you retrieved a crossbow bolt from your hip pouch and threw it like a dart at another. It pierced his eye and exploded. Damnest thing I ever saw."

Kai chuckled. _Sounds like me, alright_.

"Then you discarded the crossbow and rolled while they notched arrows. You shot one with some sort of lightning spell and blew his head right off his shoulders. A Redguard came at you with a war axe. You spun a complete circle around his wild vertical slash and came up right behind him. You placed your palm on the nape of his neck and his eyes just sort of rolled over up into his head. He fell flat on his face like his legs just gave out or something. What did you do anyway?"

"I discharged a Thunderbolt into his body," Kai replied. "It's enough to kill a grown man if applied like that."

"I noticed," Sinding said, sounding impressed. "Well, then you turned to face the remaining four, but got shot in your left shoulder. The arrow pierced the ball joint and dislocated it somewhat. Then you took two more, one in your right thigh and the other piercing your chest, right under the right collarbone. Your ribs stopped it, otherwise it would've punctured a lung."

"Peachy."

"You went down pretty fast after that. I suspect the arrowheads were poisoned, because by the time I had dealt with the remaining four and got to you, well, you were dying."

Kai frowned and sat up, feeling much better. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You were delirious, mumbling something about a girl and a ribbon. You were shaking like crazy too. It was like you were on the verge of going into cardiac arrest."

"Then how am I still alive?"

Sinding looked away almost guiltily and replied, "I gave you my blood."

For a few short moments, Kai stared at Sinding's profile, his fingers curling into fists in the dirt. His mind was completely blank. He had trouble forming his thoughts, much less words. He wet his lips repeatedly, but couldn't bring himself to speak. He found his voice after a couple of minutes. "So, uh, does that mean I'm… you know…"

"You're now a werewolf."

It felt as though Sinding's voice came from a land far, far away. The finality of those had been like a door shutting on his former life. Nothing would ever be the same again. He was now a _bloody_ manbeast, a shape shifter, a creature of the night.

_Fucking shitblossoms, am I now gonna be guided by the urges to feed on innocents and virgins children?! Well, kids are annoying, but does that warrant them being eaten?_

Who knew?

_More fucking things I wanted no fucking part of. What is wrong with my life?_

"I… see," Kai said shakily after a few more minutes.

"I'm sorry. It was the only thing I could-"

Kai raised his palm and signalled Sinding to stop. When the lycanthrope complied, Kai sighed deeply. "I appreciate your efforts and thank you for saving my life, but I would have preferred it had you let me die."

_"_**Nonsense, mortal!**_"_A deep voice boomed, jolting both Nords. "**By turning the hunt inside out, you have demonstrated true will… the will of a hunter and not that of mindless sheep**_._"

"Oh, fuck no. Not again," Kai slapped his forehead. "Sorry about the defiance, random entity without a body, but I never do as told."

The voice chuckled. "**Mortal, you continue to amuse and impress. Go forth, with my blessing, Champion**_._"

As the voice died down, Kai was suddenly aware of a dull humming noise radiating from his trouser pocket. Digging his hand inside, he fished out a silver ring with a decorative head of a wolf emblazoned on it; the cursed Ring of Hircine. Sinding and Kai only stared at it as the piece of jewellery started glowing with an ethereal light before it abruptly stopped.

"Well, that was weird," Kai said after a while.

"The Ring is pure now. The curse has been lifted," Sinding smiled softly at the ring. "I can't feel the foul presence emanating from it anymore."

"Huh," Kai said and pocketed it. "What'd it mean, 'Champion'?"

"Your actions have pleased the Daedric Lord. You are now the Champion of Hircine, meaning, you have his blessings."

"What if I don't want it?"

"Then you're out of luck, my friend."

"As usual then," Kai pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Is there any way to completely get rid of lycanthropy?"

"I am aware of no such way, but I have heard that if you keep the Ring on your person at all times, your urges to shift will lessen considerably."

So he was stuck with Beast blood for good. Could it _be_ any better?

"You're taking this pretty well," Sinding said, bringing Kai out of his reverie. "Better than I had expected."

"No use worrying or overreacting. That won't change anything. But let me ask you this," Kai began slowly. "What are the changes that I'm likely to encounter with this… y'know…"

Sinding nodded in understanding. "Well, you'll be stronger and faster. You'll have heightened senses of vision, smell and hearing. You'll have greater stamina. You'll be immune to most diseases. You'll have night vision at par with nocturnal predators. Wolves will not be hostile towards you, be it in human or beast form. Those are the advantages," Sinding ticked them off with his fingers. "There's also the flipside. You'll be considerably weaker to weapons made out of silver, so try to avoid those as much as possible. The other one is the acute lack of sleep. Well, you can sleep but whatever sleep you have will be infested by horrid nightmares. This can be countered by shifting. Once you shift, the nightmares will cease for a week or so but then they'll come back. If you want to sleep properly, you'll have to at least shift once a week."

Kai exhaled deeply and slowly rose to his feet. He found his katana on the ground a couple feet away and stooped to pick it up, dusting it with his cloak and sliding it into the sash. "Where's my crossbow?"

"By the fire. I'll go get it."

Kai patted the dirt off his trousers as best as he could and holstered his crossbow on his back when Sinding brought it back to him.

"By the way, tell me this. How did you give me your blood?" Kai asked curiously. "And how did it help?"

"I pierced my palm with a dagger I took from one of the bodies and held it to your mouth. A few good drops is all it takes, usually. Too much, and you might transform. That would be counterproductive, considering the state you were in," Sinding shrugged and signalled Kai to follow him as he led the hunter out of the Grotto. "Once the Beast blood kicked in, it pushed out the contaminated blood out of your mouth. You were coughing and flailing and I had to hold your limbs down to prevent you from hurting yourself. You see, when we shift, the first change that occurs is the enlargement of the heart. This is to accommodate for the increase in blood flow for the much larger body. However, this happens before the lungs and ribs swell to accommodate the enlarged heart, leading to intense chest pains. You might have felt it when you awoke. Was there a sharp pain in your rib cage?"

"There was," Kai nodded absently. "I thought I had broken them. But anyway, you seem to know a lot about lycanthropy. What are you, a scholar or something?"

As the pale moonlight outside the Grotto washed over the two Nords, Kai saw Sinding smile ruefully. "In another life, I was part of a certain guild of warriors in Whiterun. Numerous experiences led me down the path I now walk."

Kai nodded. He knew not to pry, but he couldn't resist the next question. "And where will your path take you now?"

"I'll stay here, make the Grotto my home," Sinding said and looked up at the moons. "Far away from civilization where I may do harm. It's for the best."

Kai didn't say anything. It took a lot of willpower to do what Sinding would be doing.

"You know, hunter," Sinding spoke again, "you are a good man. I don't know why you decided to help me. I doubt anybody would have. But I pray to Talos that you might preserve the goodness of your soul, that it doesn't get corroded by the trials you will face in the days to come. I bid you farewell and a good life ahead."

"Till we meet again," Kai said and turned on his heel and started stumbling down to Falkreath. He still couldn't walk properly and he hoped he didn't appear drunk. When he had managed to gain some distance, he stopped and looked over his shoulder.

Sinding was still standing there, staring at the moon, his hands clasped together as if praying. Kai turned away and kept walking.

Kern had once told him that remorse was the highest form of justice in the world. If a person felt guilty for his deeds, if he regretted them with his every breath and tried to make things better for the rest of his life, if he realized his sins on his own, then there was nothing anybody could do to punish him any further.

Having seen Sinding weep in a solitary confinement cell for a crime he had committed while under the influence of a Daedra, Kai had decided that the man was punished enough. That he didn't need to die.

Even more than his code, Kai followed his instincts. He knew that he had done the right thing, and that was enough.

A sorrowful howl pierced the stillness of the night as if reinforcing his beliefs. Kai didn't look back.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Isran**

The Redguard stroked his beard pensively. He had encountered a plethora of weird situations in his years on Nirn, but this probably topped off everything else.

"Still hasn't spoken a word, has he?"

Isran shook his head and looked at the Nord. "Are you sure this is the one who attacked the Hall, Tolan?"

The Vigilant of Stendarr merely stared at the figure stretched out on the torture rack. "I might forget all other faces, Isran, but I won't forget this one."

"Fair enough," Isran replied with a sigh. Nothing about this situation made sense to him.

The Hall of the Vigilants had been razed to the ground by vampires. This had happened about a month ago. Tolan had been the harbringer of the news. Isran never really agreed with Carcette's methods, nor did he have any tolerance for the attitude of the Vigilants. But learning of their deaths had been saddening for the Redguard.

Being sucked dry by a vampire was not exactly the best death available. He found solace in the fact that his former associates had not been turned, in the least.

Honestly, Isran had a feeling that something like this would happen sooner rather than later. The vampires in the province had been especially active over the past couple years. _A bit too active_. Reports of vampire attacks were ever increasing. The Dawnguard could only do so much. The Vigilants, though heavier in numbers, weren't trained to deal with the bloodsuckers properly.

If ever there was an obvious intimidation attempt, the assault on the Hall of the Vigilants had been one. However, that wasn't what was odd.

According to Tolan, who had been a resident of Fort Dawnguard for the past month, had told him that he had been given the directions to reach the Dawnguard by none other than a vampire. This vampire had apparently saved Tolan and healed his injuries. For a while, Isran played with the notion that somehow Tolan's memories might have been played around with by the vampires. That theory didn't hold any credence after further consideration, though.

The reason behind why Isran had to resort to accept Tolan's word of mouth as truth was because of a rather damning and unprecedented event.

A couple of days after Tolan's arrival, Agmaer, a new recruit, had stumbled upon a rather bizarre sight upon his patrol round early in the morning.

He had found a giant crucifix sticking out of the ground and a man nailed to it. This man was dressed in his loincloth and had daggers piercing his wrists, his dislocated shoulders, his throat, diaphragm, stomach, shins and ankles. The blades had been buried hilt deep. Agmaer, horrified at the sight, had run back to the castle to get help.

The Dawnguard members, when they reached the site, found the man snarling at them. He was extremely pale and in the bright sunlight, they could clearly see that his eyes were orange.

Somebody had given them a _fucking_ vampire.

After weakening the abomination considerably by bombarding it with Sun Fire spells for about a half hour and making sure that it was too limp to even move its fingers, the Dawnguard members had dug out the wooden crucifix and carried it to their torture chamber. Once there, they removed all the daggers and tied the bloodsucker to the rack. The vampire had been under constant surveillance by at least two Dawnguard members around the clock and subjected to Sun Fire spells at hourly intervals.

A small piece of parchment had been pinned to the vampire's chest, the dagger having been stabbed through it and into the diaphragm. It contained only a few short sentences: _A gift to Brother Tolan. This is Lokil. Tolan might recall him from the attack on the Hall. Feel free to torture at length._ It had been signed by some Firo person.

Tolan had immediately recognised the name as having belonged to the vampire that had saved his life. Lokil, he said further, was the one that had initiated the assault on the Hall of the Vigilants.

Isran did not know what to make of the situation then and now, nearly a month later, he was no closer to making heads or tails of it. _A friendly vampire?_ Was such a thing even possible? Or was this some sort of elaborate plot designed to catch them off guard? As much as the Redguard would like to believe the latter, there was still a shadow of doubt in his mind. This Lokil always cursed Firo, damning him on grounds of treachery. Was this also part of a plot, or was this genuine? Regardless, no torture conceivable to them had been able to break the vampire. That was saying something, considering they had an Orc among their ranks.

"So what're you going to do?" Tolan asked, causing Isran to shake off his thoughts and refocus on the present. "We've already snapped its cartilage, ligaments and bones. We've pulled out its nails and a few fingers. In fact, the muscle fibres have been stretched so much, they've become practically useless. And since it can't feed, it can't heal. "

"And still it won't talk." Isran cracked his knuckles one by one and said, "Let's try burning its manhood today. Tolan, go get me a torch."

* * *

**Ivan**

"What's the matter?" Mirabelle Ervine asked and placed a soft kiss under his ear before proceeding to wrap her arms around his stomach from behind. "Lately, you've been acting a little… off."

Ivan smiled to himself as he felt her lips leave a trail of kisses down the side of his neck. He turned and pressed his lips to hers tenderly, feeling her respond. Placing a hand on her cheek, he kissed her again.

"You're not going to tell me are you?" Mirabelle sighed against his lips and tucked her head under his chin. "You and your secrets."

"I'm sorry, but there isn't really much to tell," the silver haired mage whispered and proceeded to massage the nape of her neck as best he could, eliciting a soft moan from his lover. "It's just the workload. I guess I'm a little on edge, is all."

It wasn't a lie, either. Ivan hadn't known that working with the College meant dealing with random appearances of Psijic monks, not to mention completing tasks for them. The mage reminded himself to go down to the Midden one of these days. He had been busy with preparing for the arrival of the dignitaries from the Synod Council, who were scheduled to arrive in the afternoon of the following day.

Ivan wasn't particularly fond of the Synod. Popular opinion was that they were gathering powerful magical artifacts to further the military power of the Empire. Though Ivan could understand the logic behind this, he didn't necessarily have to like it.

"Mmm. If you feel like telling me what's really bothering you, I'm always willing to listen."

Ivan grinned and kissed the top of her head. This was one of the reasons why he fell so madly in love with the Master Wizard. She always knew when to poke and when to give it a rest. They had been going steady for nearly a year now, but they had been off and on for three years. It had been hard too, what with the Breton's many arguments against it.

Ivan remembered when he was a lad of eighteen, a new student of the College. That had been eight years ago. He, along with a few others of his batch, had been smitten with the Master Wizard from the first day. While the other students fell out of their initial attraction, it remained firmly rooted in Ivan's heart.

After completing his fourth year at the College, Ivan was given the opportunity to join the ranks of the faculty. The Master Wizard had been the one to approach him with the offer. He had kissed Mirabelle Ervine right then and there out of sheer joy.

During the course of the next year, he got to know her better. He would always look for excuses to work in close relation with her. As much as he learnt about his new job, he learnt about her more. Well, he tried, at least.

"A septim for your thoughts," Mirabelle whispered against his chest, stopping Ivan from reminiscing any further.

"Just thinking about us. Thinking I'm fortunate to have what I have with you," Ivan said and placed his chin atop her head. "And thinking about how you tried tooth and nail to resist all this from happening."

He felt her snort against his throat.

"It's true though." Ivan pulled away from her embrace to lock gazes. "You really are pretty conservative. You were against intra faculty relationships. You were against seeing a guy six years your junior. Even now, after like three years, you still kick me out in the morning."

"It's because-"

"Everybody knows about us, Mia," Ivan said with a sigh. "You don't really have to kick me out. I don't care if we're seen together. Unless you're ashamed of being seen with me."

It felt a tad strange, to voice his insecurities. It felt weird now that he was actually saying it out loud. Looking at Mira, he saw that she look aghast.

"Is that what's been bothering you?"

Ivan looked away.

"Hey, look at me." She framed his face with both hands, her voice pleading. "Please?"

When he obliged, she pressed her forehead against his. "Ivan Asarsen, I am in love with you. Do you know that?"

"Yeah. I know," the Nord sighed. "Look, it's just a stupid insecurity…"

"It's not stupid if it bothers you. And I'm sorry. We're busy all day and I have no right to deprive you or myself of time together at night as well. Besides, I shouldn't fear a scandal. We're past that stage. It's just that we've never done anything in public." She kissed the tip of his nose. "And I think I should like to wake up to you."

Ivan smiled into the next kiss. He felt a tad better now that his insecurities had been brought to light and dealt with properly.

Pulling away from the lip lock, Mira smiled and tugged on the collar of his robes, nodding towards the bed. "C'mon. It's already past midnight. We've got a lot of things to do and not enough time to do it."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

**Kai**

"You're awake. Good." Valga Vinicia said with a smile as Kai staggered to a barstool. "A letter arrived for you. Riften, I think," she said and held out a note to him. "By the way, son, you look like shite."

The Nord hunter grunted in response, running his fingers through his wild, raven locks.

"What happened? Couldn't sleep?" she asked, showing mild concern.

With a slight nod, Kai proceeded to rest his forehead on the countertop and covered his head with his hands. A sleep plagued by nightmares wasn't conducive to rest. Once he had woken up, he was too shaken to go to sleep again.

A bastardised version of the previous night's events played over and over in his head, robbing him of any sleep. Solace came with daylight and brought with it a terrible realization.

He was now among the creatures that he used to hunt. It was a cruel twist of fate indeed. _Is this all part of the 'inevitability' crap Arnger was preaching about?_ Kai would've liked to give the Greybeard a piece of his mind then and there.

He tried to recall how he had managed to get himself to the Dead Man's Drink in the first place, but he drew a complete blank. His head hurt every time he even tried to tax it with too many thoughts. Kai was bone tired. He frowned when he thought he had a lifetime of this to look forward to. _Real fuckin' peachy…_

"Are you sleeping? I said you had a letter." Valga's impatient tone brought him out of his dark thoughts.

"Would you kindly read it out to me? I don't feel equal to the task at the moment," Kai said without lifting his head off of the counter top.

He heard her scoff. "What next? Feed you breakfast?"

The man didn't reply.

"Fine then," she said and cleared her throat before unfolding the piece of paper. "Dear Kai-pie," she began.

Kai's head involuntarily shot up from the countertop upon hearing that.

"How have you been? It has certainly been a while, hasn't it? Seven years, if I remember correctly, have passed since you stormed off into the night without even saying goodbye. Bryn told me you'd been in Riften a few months ago. It never occurred to you that a beautiful and doting woman has been waiting for you for a long time and that you should at least pay her a visit? Honestly, you're just the unfeeling bastard you always were. I miss you.

As for me, you'll be happy to know that I've been promoted! You can be proud of that. I pretty much call the shots around here now.

Anyway, Vipir had a job in Ivarstead, see? He learned you were on your way to Falkreath after dealing with some man eater. I was overjoyed to hear about your whereabouts and am currently on my way to Falkreath in order to meet you! By the time this letter reaches you, I will have already embarked on my journey and should be close to your location. Wait for my arrival! I'm so excited to be able to see you again! Regards, Reina Coldridge," Valga finished and whistled. "My, my. Your _beau_?"

_I didn't hear all that. Somebody, anybody tell me that all this was the side effects of some Illusion spell!_

Kai pinched his arm. _Ouch_. He was definitely awake. And that meant that what he heard just now was real. And that meant that…

"Coldridge?! Here?!" He slapped his cheek as sheer panic gripped him. "Cataclysm! Calamity! Catastrophe!"

Kai barely noticed the surprised look on Valga's face out of his peripherals as he sprang up from the barstool and darted to his room, suddenly bursting with energy.

"Is something wrong?" Valga called out, sounding somewhat alarmed.

"All hands on deck! Abandon ship! Every man for himself! I'm weighing anchor!" Kai muttered to himself in a loud whisper as he slipped on the knapsack and crossbow bolt pouch on his hip and proceeded to slip the katana into its sash in a panicked frenzy.

He probably sounded hysterical, because Valga sounded even more worried than before. "What?"

"I'm off." Kai announced. He stopped to throw a small coin purse at the woman who caught it deftly in mid-air. She looked like she had done that before.

_Do barkeeps all over Skyrim practice juggling money purses or something?_

"Where to?" she inquired.

"I don't know! Riften, perhaps," Kai answered as he pushed open the front doors. "I've never dared to set foot there in case I ran into that… that she-Daedra." With a shake of his head, he added, "Anyway, thank you for the hospitality. If anybody comes asking for me, tell 'em I got eaten by a mudcrab or something along those lines. Yes. That should work perfectly. Farewell!"

As he shot out of the Inn and ran briskly towards Riften, Kai had conveniently forgotten all his woes of having been turned into a werewolf.

_One crisis at a time._


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**Casair**

Druadach Redoubt was among the few remaining Forsworn encampments in the Reach, and was strategically located to aid in the surveillance of Karthwasten. Other than that, it also served as a base for any attempted infiltration efforts targeting Markarth.

It was also the only place Casair had ever called home. She was born six years after Ulfric Stormcloak had taken Markarth back from the Reachmen. Her grandfather had been captured and the remaining Reachmen all fled to the hills. Ailig, who was ten years her senior, had witnessed the carnage unfold. As he had only been four years old at the time, it scarred him deeply. Casair's parents had semi-adopted the boy after he had lost his own parents to the forces of the then Jarl of Windhelm.

Born and raised in the camp, Casair had spent a fairly happy childhood running across the lush fields and wildernesses of the Reach. She would sometimes accompany her father on hunting trips. It was he who taught her how to use the falchion which she now carried.

As she wound up the mountainous path, she looked back at the few happy memories she had. There weren't too many, but that only made her cherish the ones she did have.

During the one year stasis of the Civil War due to the Dragon Crisis, the Silver-Bloods had ransacked the mountains with raiding parties, comprised of mercenaries. These conflicts had sprung up everywhere and very soon, Casair's parents had been claimed by it.

Druadach Cave had been burned from the inside out that night. Almost all the people she had grown up with had been killed. Casair, then only nineteen, had killed three mercenaries herself. The Forsworn had been victorious that night, but that victory was overshadowed by the grief. Out of the twenty three people who resided there, only nine had survived.

Ailig, being the oldest of the survivors, assumed the role of leader and built back their home from scratch. It took a couple of months, but they had managed to cremate the dead and build a nigh hospitable environment again.

During and immediately after that time, Ailig visited each and every known Forsworn encampment, stating their woes and asking for assistance. They were generously helped with food, provisions and manpower.

Casair was grateful and thankful for Ailig's innate leadership skills. But ever since then, the man had spent his time obsessing over revenge. She didn't know how many times Ailig had made a plan simply to scratch it off and draft a new one, but it was definitely in the hundreds, if not thousands. He talked of avenging the King, and though Casair could sympathise, it didn't cease her concern.

Her main concern was that of Ailig losing himself to the ideas of vengeance. She had grown up with him and depended on him as an elder brother figure and wanted the best for him. She would naturally be concerned for his mental state. The other reason was an ideological difference of opinion. Ailig wanted to slaughter the Nords for all that they had done to his people. Casair reasoned that Madanach had rebelled not because of vengeance, but because of his need for acceptance. He wanted the Nords and the Empire to recognise the Forsworn as an independent race. Should the movement which started out as a means of winning acknowledgement be allowed to be bastardised by being impregnated by notions of revenge and mindless killing? Casair didn't approve of this. She never would.

But Ailig was right regarding one thing. The Empire wouldn't hand them what they wanted on a silver platter just because they wanted it. They would have to fight for it, and if taking that first step meant starting on a path leading to further bloodshed, then so be it.

Casair heard an all too familiar sound; the clashing of swords had a very distinct noise. As soon as Casair heard that particular noise, her stomach clenched with dread. Was her home under attack again?

Drawing her sword, she took off at a full sprint. This time, she would slaughter every one of those blasted mercenaries.

"Loosen up, lad. Don't be so stiff. You have to be fluid in your movements. Keep your sword hand up like that… good."

She stopped dead in her tracks as the camp came into view. She could see Ailig teaching a couple of teenagers how to use a sword properly. It had been a false alarm. As she slowed her pace and sheathed her blade, she saw Ailig look up at her and wave. She simply nodded.

"Alright boys, you practice your swings, but don't be slacking off now. I've got my eye on you lot," he told the boys and turned to Casair as she walked up. "Training recruits for the big event."

"Yes, I can see that," she quipped and took the bottle of water Ailig held out to her. "Ailig, you do realise that we might be walking into a slaughterhouse, don't you?"

"What's your point?"

"My point," Casair took a swig of the water and sat on the grass beside Ailig, who was watching the two recruits spar, "is that there is still time. We can still try a more covert approach. Less risk."

"I find your lack of faith… disturbing."

"It's not about faith or any lack thereof. You know that."

The man sighed. "You look pale. Did something happen on your little journey?"

"Yes." Casair replied quickly. The fact that she was now a possible target of the Dark Brotherhood was something she wanted to keep under wraps for now. "I'll tell you later. I just need a reply now."

"Look, Cas," Ailig said after a pause and placed his hand on her shoulder."I know that this is a little hard for you to go along with. But it's the only thing we can do with what little resources we have. Think about it. The Nords are giving us an opening. It could be that they don't realise it, but it would be infinitely foolish of us if we didn't capitalise on this opportunity."

"Yes, I understand that," Casair sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I dunno. Something just doesn't feel right."

"Look, if all goes well, there won't even be any bloodshed," Ailig gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Elisif the Fair is going to hold a grand ball for the Old Life Festival. We'll infiltrate the Blue Palace under the guise of Bards from High Rock. As for mixing with the bards of the Solitude college, I have something planned. After that, it's only a matter of surrounding the new High Queen and publicly taking her hostage. Then we force her to declare the independence of the Reach and recognize the Forsworn. If she accepts, we let her go."

Casair wasn't completely convinced. "You make it sound so easy."

"It won't be too difficult. So don't lose sleep over it," Ailig patted her shoulder and offered a small smile. "And while we're on the subject of sleep, why don't you go hit the haystack? You look dead tired."

"I'm not tired!" Casair protested between yawns. "Just a little, I guess."

"Get some sleep."

"Alright, alright," Casair said with feigned indignation and rose to her feet. "I'll go."

"Forever Forsworn," Ailig called out to her as she entered the cave. Casair waved over her shoulder.

The only thing she wanted to do now was collapse on her haystack. Obnoxious goats be damned.

* * *

**Firo**

Anxiety.

It wasn't something he felt very often. Indeed, it wasn't something he was comfortable with. If he still had a beating heart, he wouldn't mind the feeling. But the anxiety one felt as a vampire was vastly different. All one felt was the anticipation of some event occurring. There was no longer the sensation of the heart crashing into the rib cage or the notion of it jumping up one's throat. It may have been a blessing to a few, but without these, anxiety was incomplete.

Vampirism seemed to rob its victim of feelings partially. That was worse than feeling nothing at all, Firo reckoned.

The silence brought him out of his reverie. He looked up from where he was leaning against the wall to see that Lord Harkon had stood up from his throne, a wide grin on his face.

The Vampire Lord had declared earlier that he would reveal his next phase of action today. Needless to say, this was the cause of Firo's anxiety. The vampires, who had been previously engaged in noisy banter, had all struck silent as their lord swept his arms regally.

"My blood brethren," the Nordic Vampire began, "the promised time is nigh upon us. Long have we confined ourselves to the darkness, shut ourselves away from the world. We walk the night like thieves and rodents. I ask you, are you satisfied? I have asked myself the very same question innumerable times and the answer has always been a resounding and emphatic 'no'!" Harkon stopped to study the faces of the clan members. Firo felt as if his father was trying to gaze into their very souls.

"We possess the power to crush the mightiest of mortals with but a flick of our wrists! We are the blessed, the chosen few! We are Volkihar, blessed by the Daedric Prince of Domination, Molag Bal himself! And what do we do to honour his generosity? Nothing!" Harkon spoke reverently, "For every hour we spend being dominated by the mortals, we disgrace His name. We must break this trend. We must! We shall dominate! And why should we not? Since ancient times, the world has followed the rule of 'might is right', and so it shall be again! We, all of us, shall walk as lions among sheep and claim this world as our own! But our ambition must also be measured. Yes, we were able to send the Dawnguard a message by devastating the Vigilants of Stendarr. But that is no victory to be proud of.

"As the two hundred and third year of this Fourth Era draws to a close, the newly crowned High Queen of Skyrim has decided to celebrate with a grand feast. And feast, we shall."

Firo closed his eyes. He already knew what was coming next.

"For what better way to make our mark than to turn Skyrim's High Queen into one of us?" Harkon's deep voice boomed across the hall. "We shall paint the province of Skyrim red! First Skyrim, then Tamriel. This new year marks the rise of the Volkihar!"

The vampires all rose to their feet and hailed their leader and lord. Firo shook his head.

"This assault on the Blue Palace shall be led by Firo," Harkon said and suddenly, Firo felt all eyes on him. Not all the gazes were friendly. "However, he shall be assisted by my advisor Vingalmo."

Firo could see the High Elf swell with pride while completely ignoring the glare Orthjolf sent his way. "Yes, milord."

"Namasur and Modhna, you two will accompany them," Harkon concluded and the two low ranking members were dumbstruck. Firo thought this was because they had never expected to be included in something potentially important. "That will be all. The chosen, you may now proceed to convene a council of war. The rest, you may recommence your meal. I shall take my leave."

"With all due respect, Lord Harkon," Orthjolf said suddenly, stopping the Vampire Lord from going his way. "I think that I am better suited to advise Master Firo in this situation. Vingalmo has never been to war. I have. I am sure my experiences will amount to some degree of support for the Master."

Firo stiffened, along with the rest of the vampires. Orthjolf had spoken out of line. This could count as being disrespectful to the Lord. Harkon didn't take kindly to being disrespected.

The raven haired vampire found his father smiling bemusedly. Only bad things happened when the ancient vampire smiled like that.

"Orthjolf, my dear trusted colleague," Harkon said and stepped towards his fellow Nordic vampire, smile still firmly in place. His every footfall reverberated against the stone walls as nobody dared to even make a sound. "I cannot risk sending both my advisors, now can I?"

The Vampire Lord stopped before Orthjolf and placed his hand on his subordinate's shoulder, giving him a hearty pat. "I consider you a very important asset. Refrain from doing anything again which might compel me to think otherwise, hmm?"

Firo always knew that his father had the ability to intimidate people. He had seen it first hand on countless occasions through the millennia. Orthjolf, like so many before, was effectively scared stiff.

"Now if you will excuse me," Harkon said and turned on his heel. "I have other matters to attend to."

Nobody made a sound until they felt sure that their Lord was well out of earshot. Vingalmo was the first to attempt to poke fun at his rival. "My dear brutish associate-"

"Make a single wisecrack," Orthjolf cut him off with a hiss, "and I'll pull your intestines out of your mouth and wrap it around your neck. Again."

Firo sighed and rubbed his temples.

* * *

**Kai**

_The more you try to avoid something, the more frequently it comes back to bite you in the arse._

That was something Kern used to say whenever the time came for him to pay his taxes. Kai later learned that the saying applied to mostly everything. The old bastard was right regarding everything, it would seem.

As Riften's main gate loomed closer, Kai grimaced. Ten years of his life he had spent within those walls, desperately trying to break free. Ten long, gruelling years wasted in the shithole that was Honorhall Orphanage.

Kai had never met his parents. According to Constance Mitchell, who herself had been eight years old at the time, he had been left at the doorstep of the orphanage, wrapped in a thick black cloak; the very same one he was currently wearing.

It was Constance who had found him and subsequently brought him inside. She herself had been a resident at the place, but that didn't deter her from becoming a pseudo older sister figure to him. In a nutshell, Constance had raised him as a kid and Kai considered her family. She was among the very few people Kai genuinely loved and respected.

The memories of his childhood at the orphanage came rushing back to him; the good and the bad, especially the latter. It was a wonder he retained as much sanity as he had.

After entering the city, Kai stopped and took a deep breath. The last time he had been to Riften was nearly two months ago. Falk Firebeard had sent him to Mistveil Keep so that he could read up on the various reports relating to the Ivarstead man-eater. Kai smiled wryly at the memory. He reminded himself to collect the reward now that he was in town.

_My hometown_, he corrected himself.

Scratching his head, the raven haired Nord realized he had no idea what to do. The plan had been to get himself to Riften. Beyond that, he hadn't thought of anything.

_Perhaps I ought to try out the whole 'planning beforehand' thing like other normal people… nah._

Kai's thoughts were interrupted by a loud rumbling sound emanating from his stomach, reminding him that he had not even stopped for breakfast on his desperate run from Falkreath. It was early in the morning when he had departed and now it was late in the afternoon. He probably should've bought lunch while at the Dead Man's Drink.

He glared at his stomach in an effort to scare his hunger off to the depths of Oblivion. However, he was quickly reminded of the fact that one does not simply win a battle against one's own hunger. It had been proved countless times in the past and was likely to hold true in the future as well… unless somebody came up with a an illusion spell which could fool even the basic bodily requirements. Kai wouldn't put anything past those bloody mages.

Sighing in defeat, Kai decided to finally claim that accursed reward and buy something edible from the Riften marketplace. The food sold there would be comparatively cheaper than anything the Bee and Barb had to offer.

Having made his decision, Kai made his way past the tavern and rounded the marketplace. He could see the Keep as he did so and quickened his pace, only to stop short as a familiar voice called out to him.

"You look lost, lad."

"And what're you supposed to be? An agent of the Aedric forces sent to the mortal realm in order to steer the lost lambs towards the right path?" Kai smirked and turned to look at the grinning face of Brynjolf, an old mate he hadn't seen in quite a long time. The two Nords then chuckled and proceeded to embrace each other.

"It's been forever since I've laid eyes on you," the redhead said and led Kai to his stall in the marketplace while looking him over top to bottom.

"Aye that it has."

Kai had known Brynjolf since his fourth year at Honorhall. Brynjolf's parents had died and had left him and his younger sister without a penny. Being ten at the time, Brynjolf decided to get some 'work', keeping his three year old sister at the orphanage. Kai had always gotten along with Brynjolf, despite the difference in their ages. It felt nice to have run into an old friend after so long.

_Much better than running into _her_._

"So what brings you to Riften?" Brynjolf asked with a crooked smile, "Didn't think I'd ever see you again within these walls."

"Escaping the clutches of death," Kai deadpanned. "So, what's new?"

A chuckle. "We've had a patch of real good luck recently."

"I see. And how's this dump of a city doing? Anything exciting?"

"Grelod the Kind died, if you can call that exciting."

Kai whistled at that. "Extreme old age?"

"No. Somebody shaved her face. Slit her throat too," the thief replied with a shake of his head. "They say it was the Dark Brotherhood."

That didn't make sense, Kai thought with a furrowed brow. "Yeah, right. As if the Brotherhood would waste its breath on a shriveled old hag like that."

"Just tellin' ya what I know, lad."

"Ah well, whoever killed her deserves a reward," Kai said drily. "Anyway, got anything to eat? I'm hun-"

"KAI-PIE!"

…_the fuck?_

That was all Kai had the liberty of thinking before a blur of blue and red shot out of somewhere and rammed into him forcefully, knocking the breath right out of his lungs. The person, for it was definitely a person, had their arms wrapped tightly around his neck while the feet were constricting his torso. It resulted in a bear hug which nigh choked the life out of him. How he withstood the impact and kept standing, he didn't know.

His nose picked up a faint scent resembling that of snowberries while his ears were assaulted by a feminine voice.

"By Nocturnal's nighties, I missed you so much!"

"Choke… choke…" he managed to force out and immediately the appendages untangled from his body, lessening the strain on his windpipe. Suddenly dizzy, Kai's legs buckled and he fell flat on his butt.

"I'm so sorry, Kai-pie! I didn't mean to choke you! Honest!"

Now that his poor brain was receiving enough oxygen, it had started thinking properly. It was only then that Kai could fully comprehend the situation he was in. When realisation hit, he groaned and covered his face with his hands.

"Are you alright?" Brynjolf asked. Kai thought that he sounded more amused than concerned. _Bastard._

"Of course he's alright. He's my Kai-pie! He isn't that weak!"

"Well, he didn't look so good when you were choking the life out of him, now did he?"

"Dear brother, you must learn to have faith in people."

Heaving a weary sigh, Kai looked up at the bickering red haired brother-sister duo of Brynjolf and Reina Coldridge, Thieves' Guild members.

"Reina," Kai said slowly, trying to mask his growing frustration. "What are you doing here?"

It had been a long time since he had laid eyes on her. She had changed a lot, he thought. The redhead was clad in a long blue dress of sorts. She had grown out her hair too. Kai remembered how she used to keep it near shoulder length. It looked good on her. Any trace of baby fat was gone from her face and had softened her facial features, making her good to look – _yeah, don't even think about it. Evil_.

Kai mentally slapped himself.

"Why _wouldn't_ I be here, silly?" Reina said with a smile. "I live here!"

"I'm not talking about that!" Kai replied hotly while resisting the temptation to punch Brynjolf's snickering face in. "The letter! You said you were going to Falkreath. So why the _fuck_ are you here?"

"Hmm?" she tilted her head slightly to the left and crossed her arms over her chest, assuming a thinking posture. "Oh, that!" The girl smiled and clapped her hands together in glee rather childishly. "Well, I needed your presence in Riften. So I decided to send you a letter, informing you of my inevitable and speedy arrival. I knew you'd make a run for it. Possibly to someplace where you were positive I wouldn't be and since I had supposedly just left Riften, what better place to go to than the same? It's pretty simple, Kai-pie. Haha!"

Kai slapped his forehead and dragged his palm down along his face. "What kind of a twisted person are you?"

"Does it matter what _kind_?" Reina replied as Brynjolf helped him to his feet. "All that matters is that you're here. Now, we can start planning."

If ever there was a statement which smelt like shit, Kai had found it. "Planning? What planning?" he asked suspiciously through narrowed lids. "And why am I needed for this planning?"

"Well," Reina turned around and started skipping along Riften's roads, hands clasped behind her back while Brynjolf dragged Kai by the elbow against his will for whatever ominous things awaited him. "We need your help with a job."

"No." Kai shot back. "I refuse to be an accessory or assist you in your kleptomaniacal tendencies."

"Oh but you will." The thief smirked at him. "I can be very persuasive."

"Yeah, fuck you," Kai told her and turned to Brynjolf. "And where the fuck are you taking me?"

The man opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by his sister, as usual.

"We're here, Kai-pie!" Reina singsonged cheerfully and whirled around to face the two men. Looking over her shoulder, Kai found they were standing at the foot of the stairs leading to the Temple of Mara.

"And what the fuck are we doing here?" Kai asked, his temper finally starting to get the best of him. All he wanted were a few vension chops. Why did his luck never let him enjoy the simpler things in life?

"We're going to attend a wedding." Reina said and hopped up the steps while Brynjolf pushed Kai up the same.

"I don't want to."

"It's me that's getting married, Kai-pie."

"I pity the poor sod that got ensnared by your charms," Kai said drily as he stopped on the steps, refusing to budge. "What does this have to do with me, anyway?"

"Everything," Reina said matter-of-factly and paused before the double doors. "You're the groom, after all."

At that instant, Kai was acutely aware of his brain dying.

"WHAT?!"

"Don't let your mind explode, lad," Brynjolf said with a chuckle from behind Kai.

"Is this supposed to be a joke? This isn't funny, Bryn!" Kai snapped. "What the fuck is going on here? What is she talking about? I want answers, dammit!"

"Relax. We're just getting married, is all. It's not much of a big deal, is it, Kai-pie?"

"You know what, I have had fucking enough of you!" Kai thundered. "Both of you! You pair of scheming snowberries! I swear if you don't stop playing around, I'll… I'll strangle someone, I tell you!"

"Do you have a problem with being married to me, Kai-pie?" Reina wailed loudly, "Why? Am I that hard to look at? " She then looked down at herself. "It's my breasts isn't it? They aren't big enough for you, are they?"

Kai felt his temper dying away as he gawked wordlessly, incapable of speech. He could feel the stares of multiple of people burning into his back.

"You promised you'd marry me when you came back, Kai-pie! You told me size didn't matter!" the redhead covered her face with her hands and her body shook violently, her volume growing with every word. "Are you going to break my heart as well as your promise? At least consider your unborn child that's growing in my womb! Do you want your flesh and blood to grow up fatherless?"

"You. Fucking. _Bitch_." Kai clenched his fists and hissed dangerously. A semi-large cluster of people had surrounded the Temple of Mara to watch the spectacle unfold and Kai could bet that not all of them were taking kindly to it. "Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up right _now_! Stop spreading lies, damn it!"

"Too late," Reina replied softly but cheerfully, keeping her voice down so the surrounding people wouldn't hear. "The damage has already been done. Now you can either walk away at the risk of being assaulted and arrested for making a public spectacle of a pregnant woman by refusing to marry her," Kai heard her snicker behind her hands, "Or you could salvage whatever remains of your image by walking inside with me and going through with it. Your choice."

Kai massaged his temples. He couldn't care less about public opinion. But he didn't have the money to pay the bail if he was indeed arrested. He cursed his luck. "Fuck my life."

"Yay! I knew you'd come around!" Reina shouted elatedly to ease the growing tension of the mob surrounding the steps and jumped at Kai, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I love you so much! Besides, I have a great butt," she said and let him go, turning around and bending over to wiggle her rearat him. "Who needs tits anyway?"

"Ma, what are those people doing?" Kai heard a boy ask and looked over in that direction. Anything to escape whatever was happening before him.

"Don't mind them, honey. They're crazy people," his mother replied and led him away.

Kai cringed. They were a good ways off, near the city centre. He shouldn't be able to hear them. Was this what Sinding had meant when he mentioned heightened senses?

"Anyway," Reina grinned and looped her arm around his elbow. "This marriage thingie will only last for a month at best. So you don't have to get all depressed and stuff. Who knows? You might find the experience rather… pleasurable."

Kai didn't even have the energy to curse. He hung his head and let himself be herded inside the temple by the Coldridge siblings.

Upon hearing the double doors being closed, he lifted his head to look around and was not-so-pleasantly surprised. All the pews had been occupied by what looked like Guild members. He hadn't expected a full house. Even Maven Black-Briar was present. Thoughts of collecting the reward flashed through Kai's mind again.

"Alright! Bring out the priest person!" Reina called out, grinning widely. "I'm getting married, people!"

"How'd you manage all this?" he whispered in Reina's ear amidst a plethora of wolf whistles and hollers.

She looked at him curiously while dragging him to the altar. "You sound impressed."

"Just answer the question."

The redhead sighed with feigned indignation as if dealing with a stubborn child. "Kai-pie, where are you?"

"What?"

"Just answer the question."

Kai shot her a death-glare. "Riften."

"Define Riften in one word."

"I dunno. Corrupt?"

"What is the city infamous for?"

Kai scoffed. "You people."

"Mhmm," Reina hummed happily and placed her cheek on his shoulder. "And guess who the Guildmaster is?"

Kai nudged her head away with his free hand. "_You_ are? That's the promotion I should be proud of?"

"Damn right you ought to be proud!" The redhead woman placed her hands on her hips and looked at Kai. "Not sure if I can be proud of the way you're dressed, though. What kinda man dresses like that to his own wedding?"

Kai scoffed. "Had I known I'd be walking into this, I'd have brought my old lorica segmentata to wade through this fucking warzone."

"Cheeky," Reain replied with a grin. "We'll have to do something about your appearance. Good thing I was prepared. Dear brother, would you mind fetching the tunic we got for Kai-pie?"

"What are you- oh fuck no." Kai crossed his arms over his chest defiantly as Brynjolf was handed a bright, multi-coloured piece of folded cloth by some bald Breton man. "I am not wearing that… that Pyandonean petticoat."

"What?" Reina frowned. "It's cute."

"Don't push it, Coldridge. Don't push it. Bad things happen when I snap."

"Puu. You're no fun," she sighed and brightened as the Redguard priest finally made his appearance. "Maramal! Marry us!"

_Fuck._

Kai gritted his teeth and tuned out the annoying speech about love and sappiness. He didn't need that shit in his life. Of course, when he was a hormonal teenager of seventeen, he had fantasised about marrying and raising a family with a girl he had been smitten with back then. It was a cruel twist of fate indeed that he found himself being married to that same girl seven years later... under rather dubious circumstances.

A nudge in the ribs brought him back to the present. Looking around, he found both Reina and the priest looking intently at him.

"What?" he asked, frustrated, "Something on my face?"

The priest cleared his throat. "Perhaps I ought to repeat the question. Do you agree to be bound together in love, now and forever?"

"Yeah," Kai replied with a wistful smile. "Forever my arse."

* * *

"So where are we going for the honeymoon?"

Kai didn't even look up from his plate. "Oblivion."

He heard Reina, his _wife_, he thought sourly, chuckle. "Oh Kai-pie. You haven't changed much, have you?"

"That's a matter of opinion, really." Kai replied and stuffed his mouth with a sweet roll. He disagreed with her, though. Too many things had changed. He no longer had a place to call home, he was now a werewolf and to top it off, he was to take part in a felony.

"Say," he began after finishing his mouthful, "what does this job of yours involve?"

He was currently seated at the dining table of Honorhall, across from Reina. Constance, after having heard of the events had been so ecstatic that she had fainted. When she regained consciousness, she had made him – and her – occupy the table while she cooked up some sorta fuckin' wedding feast. Kai liked the idea of free food and he had missed Constance's cooking, so he hadn't protested much.

"Infiltration, acquirement and departure," the redhead said simply.

"Sounds too cutesy to be true," Kai said and leaned back in his chair, fixing the woman sitting across from him with a stare. "Details, if you don't mind."

"You aren't a Guild member, Kai-pie. I'm afraid I can't disclose that information."

"I fucking _married_ you, alright? I'd say I deserve to know what it is I got my arse into."

"I hate it when you make sense," Reina pouted. "Fine. There's supposed to be a ball at the end of the month at Solitude for the celebration of the Old Life festival. That's my target."

"A ball in Solitude?" Kai asked with a raised brow. "That's news to me and I live there."

"That's what living a vagabond's life does- wait. You live in Solitude?"

Kai noticed a spark in her eyes. She also sounded excited. He was suddenly very cautious. "Yes," he said carefully. "I have a house there."

To his surprise, Reina actually sighed in relief. "You have no idea how much that simplifies my plans."

"What plans?"

"You'll find out in time, Kai-pie," Reina grinned cheekily.

"Bitch," Kai muttered. "By the way, where exactly is this ball going to take place?"

Her grin widening, the redhead leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table.

"The Blue Palace."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**Josak**

The tremors from the explosion had rattled his brain. Josak wondered whether his skull would split after ricocheting off the coffin walls repeatedly.

What had possessed him to seek shelter in a coffin alongside a centuries old corpse, he would never know. But it was better than being burnt to cinders.

It was completely dark inside the coffin and from the lack of loud explosions, Josak gathered that the Oculatus people had succeeded in blasting the Sanctuary to pieces. Curse the Emperor's ass-lickers!

He would worry about that later, though. Right now, he would have to find some way of getting himself out of the steel cylinder he had sought refuge in. unable to twist himself around, the Nord rapped the cool metal lid with his knuckles before calling out for Nazir. He really hoped the Redguard had managed to survive. Otherwise, he was royally fucked.

"Hurry, Nazir! I'm telling you, he's in there!"

Was that… Babette? The bloodsucking leech actually survived the inferno. She was more resourceful than he thought.

"I'm going… as fast… as I can, you stupid she-devil," Nazir grunted between panting bouts. "I don't see you… helping…"

"I'm not exactly built for manual labour," Babette quipped wittily. "Now hurry up! You've almost got it."

Josak couldn't agree more. The limited air inside the damned coffin was starting to run out.

"One more… pull…" Nazir panted over the sound of grating slabs of rocks before sighing in relief "Yeeaah! There."

"Can you get it open?"

Babette's voice suddenly sounded much closer, Josak thought.

"I think so," Nazir said with uncharacteristic patience. "Just give me a moment to catch my breath."

But before the coffin's lid was prized open, Josak heard a familiar voice ring inside his head. "_You must speak to Astrid_," the Night Mother's voice chimed, "_Here, in the Sanctuary._"

The assassin's eyes widened at that. Astrid was alive? She was _here_?

But before he could think, the lid slid out from behind him and Josak stumbled back, right into Nazir's arms, suddenly dizzy. This always happened after the old fucking witch fucked around in his brain.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. It's all right," the Redguard said, concerned. "You've been through a lot. Do you want to sit down for a bit?"

Josak clapped his hand over his face and shook his head with a grunt. He could feel a headache coming on. "I can rest when I'm dead," he snapped. "I… oh fuck."

His words died in his mouth when he finally took in the widespread destruction surrounding him. the ceiling had collapsed completely and moonlight flooded down through the gaping cracks. Most of the walls had been obliterated and bits of bricks and mortar littered the stone floor.

The Falkreath Sanctuary, his home, lay in ruins. His family lay massacred. All in one fell swoop.

"Astrid," he breathed suddenly, breaking off from Nazir's grip and stumbling towards Astrid's chambers. "She's fucking alive. I'll have to… find her."

"Astrid? By Sithis, she's alive?!" Babbette exclaimed, falling in step behind him. "I thought we'd lost her."

Josak always knew that the undead girl had a soft spot for the mother hen of their little family. Astrid had been like a mother-figure to most of them, someone they could always trust in to do what was best for them. If she was alive…

Burnt corpses of Penitus Oculatus agents littered the floor of what remained of Astrid's chambers, but the woman in question was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you hear that?" Babbette said softly. "It's as if someone is groaning…"

Josak hadn't, but Babette's senses wouldn't lie. And if someone was alive here… it had to be Astrid. It just _had_ to be.

Rounding a corner, the trio of assassins found the entrance of a previously undiscovered room. Feeling his heartbeat rise a tad, Josak took a shallow breath and crossed the threshold… only to stop dead in his tracks and causing Babette to walk right into his butt.

"Move, you big tree!" the girl demanded angrily and pushed past Josak into the room and stopped short, much like he had done a few moments ago. The vampire then clasped her hands over her mouth and dropped to her knees. "Oh. Oh no. No no no…"

It was a really small room. The walls were lined by burning remnants of what must have been desks or tables. On the floor, there were ten lit candles fixed to their stands in a wide circle and in the middle, spread eagled, lay-

"Astrid…" Nazir breathed.

It was indeed Astrid, Josak noticed as he silently kneeled beside the nigh lifeless body of his teacher. Astrid had been burnt beyond recognition. The flames had singed her armour to her skin and whatever skin was still visible, had been roasted completely. When she turned her head to look at him, Josak could've sworn that a ghost of a smile played across her face.

"Alive… You're alive… Thank Sithis…" the matron of the Dark Brotherhood croaked weakly, her voice barely a whisper. This was followed by a fit of violent coughing, no doubt caused by inhalation of the fumes. Josak didn't know what would kill her first; the burns or the fumes.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Astrid shushed him gently. "Please. There is much… I wish to say. And… not enough time…" she said urgently between coughs. Then with a supreme effort of will, she steadied herself and her voice as best she could. "I'm sorry. So very sorry. That pompous Imperial bastard… Maro… he said by giving you to them, he would leave the Brotherhood alone. Forever."

Josak's jaw tightened at the confession. He felt himself drowning in a sea of question, all beginning with a single word: why. His primary query was soon answered.

"By Sithis, I was such a fool! All of this… it's all my fault. You are the best of us. And I nearly had you killed…" Astrid went on, undeterred through the coughing, "…as I've killed everyone else…"

She then looked at him pleadingly, as if begging reproach like a guilty child from their parents after stealing a sweet roll. Josak knew that condemning her now would give her some semblance of peace, but he couldn't find it in him to do so. His mouth had gone dry and all he could do was draw a shuddering breath. Neither Nazir nor Babeete said anything either.

"Yes, I set you up," Astrid said weakly, but not any less forcefully. "I wanted you dead. I betrayed you, the Night Mother, and everything I hold dear! And now Maro has betrayed me."

As the strength from the frenzied confession ebbed away, Astrid resumed her coughing and desperately tried to fill her lungs with fresh air. "I just wanted things… to stay the way they were. Before Cicero. Before the Night Mother. I thought I could save us. I thought I could save… you.

"I was wrong... so hopelessly wrong. But you're alive! So there's still a chance… a chance to start over," the Matron said, a flaint glimmer of hope in her tone. "That's why I did… this."

"No…" Babette choked softly. "Astrid… you…"

"Yes, I prayed to the Night Mother," the leader of the infamous assassins' guild said softly. "I am the Black Sacrament."

"What are you saying?" Josak blurted out. He did not know what to make out of this new piece of information.

"I'm saying you were right," squawked Astrid. "The Night Mother was right. The old ways… they guided the Brotherhood for centuries. I was a fool to oppose them. And to prove my… sincerity, I have prayed for a contract. You lead this family now, Josak. I give you the Blade of Woe… so that you can see it through."

With trembling fingers, the Listener picked up the ebony dagger from beside his mentor and gripped it tightly. The blade was curved and long, somewhat menacing. The weapon was completely black; as if it was handed down by Sithis himself.

"Astrid," Josak gulped to hide his croaking. "You were the one who killed my parents. You could have ended my life right then and there, yet you chose not to. In doing so, you confined me to a life in the shadows… and I despised you for you that. I can't even count the number of times I've tried to kill you over the years. You could've ended my life on any of those occasions but again, you chose not to."

He stopped to gather his thoughts before continuing, "In taking away a family, you gave me another. And strangely enough, I wouldn't have it any other way. And after all this, you want me to end you?"

A hollow chuckle escaped Astrid's mouth. "Kid, I did promise you the chance of vengeance."

Josak smiled sadly and nodded. "Unknowingly, I had made you my mark. Killing you had become my only reason for existing. I went throughevery level of Oblivion imaginable so I could get good enough to take you out. And now that the opportunity finally presents itself… I-I don't want to."

"Don't… shed tears for me, boy," Astrid sighed as Josak wiped at his leaking eyes with his forearm. "So you made me your goal, huh? That's good to know. At least I was… able to inspire something."

"And I'll look like an idiot if I have to kill my goal."

"If you want to surpass your goal, Josak," Astrid said and reached out to grasp Josak's hand lightly, "then you've got to survive… relying on your own strength. Become stronger… than everybody else."

Josak tenderly held his mentor's burnt hand. The skin had been burnt off and even the muscles were crisp.

"That's an order, do you hear?" Astrid said and coughed violently. "Refuse to… die and become stronger…"

"I will," Josak said softly and held the dagger point down in his right hand. With his left, he held onto Astrid's hand. "I love you Astrid. I love you all so very much. And thank you. For everything."

He could make out Astrid mouth the words 'Thank you,' to him. She had finally lost her voice, he reckoned.

Then he plunged the dagger into her heart.

* * *

"Daydreaming, are we?"

"Mmmm. Just thinking about… stuff," Josak replied to Nazir's query. The Redguard had caught him whilst repairing his spare suit of armour. Unlike the usual black and red that was the standard of the Brotherhood, this suit of armour was white and blue. He used it very rarely, and had crafted it himself. Almost everybody had been opposed to the idea; all except for Astrid and Arnbjorn. The couple had always given him a looser leash than the other. Whether it was because he was the youngest or because of the circumstances behind his recruitment, Josak didn't know. Honestly, he didn't really give a fuck.

"I never understand why you made that white…thing."

"Blood looks so much prettier on white, no?"

"Mmm. No leads on the Forsworn girl, I take it?" Nazir asked and plopped down on a chair. Josak's quarters had become a makeshift common room for the inhabitants of the Dawnstar Sanctuary, although its privileges were reserved for the older members.

The Brotherhood had recently recruited three new members; a Bosmeri archer who dabbled in alchemy, a Breton mage with an affinity for flame spells and a Nordic brute who spent most of his time repairing the various weapons and armour of the group. Josak cou;d never remember their names, though.

"Her name is Casair," Josak replied and stopped working on his armour for the moment. "What about you? How went the contract?"

"You know how it is these days," the Redguard shrugged. "War's over. This is the time for rebuilding. Lots of political toes being stepped over."

"No fun, huh?"

"Not one bit."

"Too bad," Josak retrieved a couple of bottles of mead before sitting down at the table across from his friend and passing a bottle over to Nazir. "Remember that one time in Markart-"

"I'd rather not, thank you very much."

"Why? Wasn't that fun for you?"

"That was suicidal," Nazir said with a smirk. "Stabbing Maro's son right outside the Understone Keep and then running for it is your idea of fun?"

"Beats the monotonous noble stabbing, no?" Josak cradled his drink and held the bottle to his temple. "And speaking of Markarth, they say Forsworn activity is at an all time low."

"I know. It's like they're all retreating into their little burrow. It's strange, actually."

"Mmm. Forsworn are like cockroaches. You think you have them cornered and they overwhelm you in one fell swoop. You know, there was this one time when I was moving my cupboard one day and I found a cluster of eight or nine cockroaches just fucking stuck to the wall and-"

"I really didn't need that image," Nazir snapped sourly and gulped down the final dregs from his bottle.

"What I meant is that cockroaches end up at the places where you don't always look. Places you're sure they won't be," the Nord mused and leaned back in his chair. "Places like Windhelm. Or Solitude."

"Huh," Nazir set the bottle down on the floor. "Are you suggesting-"

"Oh I'm more than suggesting. If I was in their place, I'd hit the biggest event of the year to make my mark," Josak grinned wildly. "The Blue Palace. The High Queen. The Old Life Festival. I can just feel the flair calling out to me! Now this is fucking my kinda thing!"

"And if you're wrong?"

"You mean if the Forsworn don't end up there?" The Nordic assassin tilted his head thoughtfully. "Well. It is Elisif's first appearance at a gathering of this magnitude. Some party or the other is bound to make an appearance. It always happens. In fact, I'm willing to bet my last Septim on the fact that some disgruntled faction will try to make a point. And when push comes to shove," Josak grinned again, "I'll be there."

The Redguard shook his head at his cackling partner. "Hopeless."

* * *

**Omiq**

Many a strange experience had the Khajiit accumulated over the years; gigantic bugs which the Dunmer used as carriages, massive tree-cities of the Bosmer which moved about by themselves, great flying lizards which supposedly had a language and civilization of their own, etcetera. He had travelled extensively both on his own and while serving the Legion and held a belief that very few things could surprise him.

But the sight before him had left Omiq completely and utterly stumped.

He sat in stony silence for a few minutes behind the counter of his restaurant and stared blankly ahead. Some things in this world truly defied all logic and expectations.

"So," he finally said with a long sigh, "you two are married."

"Yesh!" the redheaded girl chirped and clung on to Kai's and tighter, "We're officially man and wife, aren't we Kai-pie?"

Now Omiq pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back his laughter, "Kai-pie, Captain?"

"Not a word." Kai hissed and pushed the girl away.

"Well I think it's cute. It suits you, Kai-pie. Wouldn't you agree?"

Omiq stared at the girl amusedly before looking back at Kai. "Yes. Yes it does. Definitely."

"I hate you," Kai snapped and stomped his way to a table at the far corner of the room. "I hate you both. Stay away from me."

"Aww. He's so adorable when he pouts and whines like a scruffy little child," the redhead chuckled and occupied a barstool, placing her satchel on the counter. "You must be Omiq, the information broker who has been stealing our business."

"And so you must be a member of the Guild," Omiq smiled and bowed. "One has to eke out a living some way, wouldn't you agree, miss…"

"Reina. My name is Reina," the girl said with a radiant smile. "And I don't mind really. It's fun to have some healthy competition. Haha."

"Ha ha," Kai's sarcastic voice came from his table, mocking Reina's laughter. "Well why don't you both duke it out and kill yourselves? That'd save me a lot of misery."

"Are you jealous because I'm paying more attention to your friend than you, Kai-pie? Should I come over and grace you with my loving embrace?"

Omiq could hear Kai mumbling incoherently and shook his head. This was quite the pair.

"So, are you here for your honeymoon, Miss Reina?"

"You could say that, I suppose," the girl replied with a slight tilt of her head. "Kai-pie is taking me to the ball, so that's exciting. I've never been to a ball before."

"That's very romantic of you, Captain," Omiq snickered and ignored the string of curses directed at him. "I say Miss Reina, why don't you go and freshen up? I assume you're exhausted after your journey. The Capt- I'm sorry, Kai-pie's room is always available," the Khajiit ducked under a sweet roll aimed at his face, "Then we can have lunch and talk. How about that?"

"Mmmm. Sounds swell," Reina lightened up. "Which one is my husband's room?"

"Upstairs. Down the corridor. It's the second room on the left."

"Why thank you," Reina bowed her head and then looked over her shoulder at Kai. "Don't keep me waiting, love."

Omiq waited till she was out of earshot before walking over to Kai. "You heard her, nya. Don't keep her waiting, _love_."

Kai had his face firmly planted on the tabletop and did not respond. The Khajiit sat across from his friend and kicked him under the table.

"You're lucky I'm too lazy to actually retaliate…"

"You wouldn't have done anything anyway," Omiq stroked his whiskers and smirked. "So, marriage?"

Heaving a sigh, the Nordic hunter leaned back in his chair and held up his right hand. Omiq noticed that a silver wedding band now adorned Kai's ring finger.

"Congratulations, Captain," Omiq said. "So what did she do, nya? Was it blackmail? Or did she trick you into it? Or better yet, did she take advantage of your weak and defenseless self, nya?"

"It's a long, sad story, Omiq. One I'd rather not recount."

"Fair enough," the Khajiit relented and swung his feet onto the table. "So, is this permanent or what, nya?"

Kai rubbed his face tiredly. "I don't think so. She has some sort of job to do in the Blue Palace. The wedding might be annulled after that."

Omiq noticed an irregularity in Kai's odour. It was slight, but still disturbing. He decided to not bring it up at the moment. "You went to Riften, right?" he asked instead. "Did you collect your reward, nya?"

A faint smile graced the Nord's lips and he nodded. "I'm pretty rich right about now."

Grinning widely, Omiq held out his hand.

Kai stared at the outstretched palm and then back at the Khajiit wordlessly.

"Pay up, nya."

"You have got to be joking."

"Oh believe me, I am very serious, regardless of my facial expression, nya," Omiq grinned even wider. "Let's see now, three hundred and fifty Septims for a new table, five hundred and twenty Septims for refitting the window and a hundred Septims for fried Cyrodillic Spadetail with curry and bread. I'm letting you have the ale and the healing potion for free. So that leaves you a debt of nine hundred and seventy Septims, nya."

Kai massaged the bridge of his nose. "To be fair, it was Ghorbash who threw that mercenary out of your window."

"But you were cause of the fight, nya."

"Must I pay?"

"You should be grateful I'm not charging interest, nya."

"Fine," Kai snapped and pulled his knapsack onto his lap, extracted a coin purse, counted the money and shoved it into Omiq's paw. "I hope you choke on it."

"Why thank you for your generosity, Captain, nya," Omiq smiled and looked up to see Ghorbash enter the restaurant.

"Closing for the afternoon," the Orc said and walked up to the table. "I say Captain, who was the pretty lady with you?"

"His wife, nya," Omiq supplied while Kai showed the Orc his ring finger.

Ghorbash stared intently at the simple silver band before throwing his head back and breaking into laughter.

"Why don't they ever find you two dead in a ditch somewhere, eh?" Kai asked sourly as the Khajiit joined in the laughter.

Oh how the Captain had been missed.

* * *

**Kai**

Bodies littered the ground. Everywhere he looked, as far as he could see, there were bodies. Some scorched, some crushed and some of the others didn't have enough left to be called 'bodies'. Of these, some were burnt beyond recognition. Some of the more recognizable ones were either dressed in Imperial reds or Stormcloak blues. Most of the others were clad in regular civilian dresses. Kai waded through these bodies, unable to think clearly. The stench was revolting. He found some alive, begging him to put them out of their misery. Others cursed him for not doing anything to save them.

Kai honestly wished he had been among them.

The tower, which once rose proudly into the sky, now stood defeated; mercilessly desecrated by the winged ebony monstrosity. Turning his head, Kai could see that much of the town had been razed to the ground.

This wasn't supposed to happen. The war was supposed to be over. Ulfric had been captured. He should've been sent to Solitude, imprisoned and the rebellion would've been crushed.

There was supposed to be peace.

Kai wanted to tug at his hair in desperation; scream his lungs out. Why? Why did all his effort yield nothing?

Why was his life spared?

The Nord fell to his knees on the ground, defeated and broken. The ideals which he had held dear, which had been the pillars of his existence, now lay sundered, mirroring the fate of the watch tower. He covered his face with his hands and bit back the scream rising in his throat.

_"**Why do you despair, Champion? Are you not grateful for being given a chance to live? For being given a chance to serve?"**_

_What._

Removing his hands from my face, Kai saw that the scene had changed. He was no longer at the ruins of Helgen. He did not know where I was. It was dark and fog clouded his vision. Kai couldn't see two feet in front of him.

"Who said that?" he asked hoarsely.

"**I am you. A part of you, rather. That is all you need to know. Now answer my question. Are you not satisfied with the second chance that you have been provided with?"**

"What second chance?" Kai thundered. "My life at the cost of a whole town? What sort of justice is that? The scales are tipped the wrong way!"

"**Ah. You have no right to say that, Champion. You have, after all, slain many. Do you deny this?"**

"I-"

"**What reason can you provide to justify your own killings? To slay a few for the betterment of the masses? Well, what would you do if, say, the entire population of Solitude is in danger and in order to save them, you must slaughter the entire population of Falkreath. Would you do it? Would you be willing to kill every citizen of a city, just for the sake of the lives of others?"**

"What kind of madness is this? There has to be some other way!"

"**Ah, but is that not how you have always operated, Champion? Saving someone means not saving someone else. Is that not what you have believed all your life?"**

"I- I don't know what to believe anymore…" Kai muttered, defeated. "Who are you, really? Show yourself!"

A mirthless chuckle. **"You wish to lay eyes upon me? Very well then. I shall grant your wish."**

An eerie purple light filled my vision as the fog promptly melted away. At least he could see, if only a little.

The Nord felt a presence behind him. It wasn't malicious, nor was it friendly. Slowly, he turned to look at it. Whatever it was, it resembled a wolf, a rather large one. It glowed with a faint bluish-white light. Funny thing was, Kai could see right through it.

"What are you?"

"**I am that which you resist, Champion. I am the embodiment of your beast blood," it said quite clearly, moving around him in a wide circle. "Why do you resist, Champion? Why not give yourself to me? What have you to fear? What have you to lose? Why do you deny yourself power, when you can be so much more than just a man?"**

Kai snorted. "Give in to the urges of my beast blood and become a slave of Hircine; a mindless, murdering monster? That too willingly? I don't think so."

"**See, that is the problem with you humans,"** the wolf continued. **"You do not fully appreciate the gift that you have been blessed with."**

"You call this a gift?"

"**Clearly. But do tell me this. Does it anger you when you are reminded of the destruction of Helgen? Does it anger that your comrades and loved ones are dead?"**

"What kind of a question is that?" Kai growled. "Of course it infuriates me."

"**Is it because you could not slay them yourself?"**

He was too stunned to even retort. The wolf, however, went on.

**"For every century people have tried to be civilised, they have been feral for a thousand more. You thirst for battle, and live to mercilessly crush, shred, and slice your enemies. Deep, deep within the dark recesses of our mind lies the honed instinct to kill, and slaughter your enemies. But you deny that. You deny those pure, base instincts! You fight with your brain. You try to defeat your enemies with logic. And it does not work. And that is precisely the reason why you are weak, Champion.****"**

Another chuckle escaped the spectral beast as it turned and faced the hunter, its snout mere inches from his eyes. **"****I am going to keep getting closer and closer to you. And not just day after day, oh no. It is going to happen much faster than that. See, I'm already closer to you than I was a moment ago. And I'll keep getting closer and closer to you, until I swallow you up and then… then you'll disappear." **It paused and its lips curled into a wolfish grin.** "Well met, Champion of Hircine.****"**

The lights faded and the fog clouded his vision again. Just before the darkness could claim him completely, Kai heard the distant howling of a wolf. It sounded as if the beast was beckoning him to come to it.

And then he remembered no more.

* * *

His eyes snapped open. Kai was acutely aware of his heart hammering hard against his ribs. So hard, in fact, that it hurt. He tried to sit up, but found that he could not do so. His body had no strength. Kai could even barely lift his right arm. When he finally succeeded, he found that it was shaking.

A faint fluttering noise invaded his ears. Turning his head slowly, Kai found that it was being caused by the night breeze, flowing in through the window and rustling the curtains in the process. The darkness was amplifying the sound… or were his superior senses kicking in? Perhaps both.

Heaving a deep sigh, Kai looked around the familiar surroundings, and sat up on his bedroll. This was his bedroom at Proudspire Manor. He had taken his bedroll and slept on the floor when Reina had asked him to join her in bed.

As if on cue, the sound of faint, rhythmic breathing came to his ears. She was still asleep, then.

Kai placed his palm on his forehead, which felt wet to touch.

_Sweat_?

Forcing himself to a sitting position, Kai realized that his entire body was drenched in perspiration. Then he remembered what had triggered such a reaction and shuddered involuntarily.

Cautiously, Kai got to his feet and wobbled a little, trying to get his balance. He had had nightmares before but never had he been so shaken up by one. They were getting worse. Mentally cursing Sinding for saving his life, he stole a glance at Reina's sleeping figure.

She lay on her back, her scarlet hair flowing out beneath her. Her lips were patted ever so slightly. She lay quite still, except for the gentle heaving of her chest. She looked so peaceful.

He couldn't help but envy her.

Knowing well that any chance of further sleep was a fantasy, the Nordic lycanthrope noiselessly made his way out of the room and to the patio. At least the cool sea breeze would help to keep the howling inside his head at bay.

No sooner had he stepped outside that the crisp night air whipped against his face. Kai inhaled deeply. The only thing he enjoyed about Proudspire Manor was the incredible view.

"Wife keeping you up, nya?"

Kai scowled at the Khajiit. "What about you? Too much Skooma?"

Omiq broke his gaze away from the moons and grinned. "One cannot simply have too much Skooma, Captain."

The Nord leaned back against the wooden door and crossed his arms over his chest. "Sure. Whatever you say."

"Indeed," his friend replied. "So why can't you sleep?"

"Nightmares. What about you?"

"Eh. Boredom. I come up here to think some nights."

Kai followed the Khajiit's gaze and looked up at the inky black sky, littered by thousands upon thousands of twinkling stars. If this didn't provoke thought, Kai didn't know what did.

"So, does your wife know about your _condition_?"

"No. Not yet, anyway. Though I'm curious regarding how you figured it out."

Neither of them looked at each other, keeping their gazes fixed at the sky.

Omiq leaned back in his chair. "That information will cost you twenty Septims."

Kai snorted and shook his head.

"You smell like a mutt, Captain," Omiq said after a pause and looked at the Nord. "Khajiit know very well how canines smell."

"And you're not curious? Not bothered, even?"

Omiq smiled. "Why would I be? Curiosity and cats don't get along too well. Although, were you planning on telling me and Ghorbash in the first place?"

Kai shook his head again.

"I see," the Khajiit said and pushed himself off his seat. "So tell me, has your body attuned to the changes? Have you tried exploring the possibilities of your-"

"I don't know," Kai answered, shifting his weight wearily. "And for the second question, no, I haven't."

"Hmm. What say we try to test your performance, Captain?"

Kai stared incredulously at his grinning friend who was now cracking his knuckles. "You cannot be serious."

"Why ever not, nya?" Omiq spread his arms invitingly. "You have never beaten me in unarmed sparring, Captain. I am best suited to notice any changes, or lack thereof, in your combat now that you have acquired this… _infection_."

The Nord remained unconvinced. "Right now?"

"Nobody's around. It's better than creating a scene during daylight and getting arrested, nya."

Kai sighed and approached his friend. "Fine. One round. No more. I don't want to rouse the others."

"That'll be more than enough, nya," Omiq smiled and presented his left side to Kai, his left fist held under his chin and his right forearm guarding torso.

Kai sucked in a deep breath and mirrored his friend. The two combatants started circling each other in a perfect circle, looking for openings in the other's stance. When he couldn't find one, Kai decided to force an opening.

The Nord spun slightly on the ball of his left foot and lashed out with a high round kick aimed at his adversary's face. Omiq mirrored the move in the blink of an eye and Kai smirked as their shins collided in the air. Retracting their feet by folding their knees, they both went for a round kick aimed at each other's ribs. Both the kicks found purchase and the fighters quickly took a step back, having slapped each others' floating ribs lightly.

Kai then charged Omiq, throwing out his right fist, but Omiq deftly deflected the blow with his left forearm, pushing Kai's arm out of the way and jumped off his left foot, aiming his right knee at Kai's ribs. The Nord twisted his body to the right to avoid contact, but then Omiq unfolded his knee and caught Kai on the waist.

Clicking his tongue, Kai took two steps back, avoiding the spinning heel kick Omiq sent his way and deftly jumped over the leg sweep. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Omiq came at him with a swift left-right combo. Kai slapped his left wrist away, stepped slightly out of the way and let the right fist sail by his earlobe, punching Omiq right under the hollow of his throat. The Khajiit coughed but stood his ground, countering with a left hook. Kai ducked and weaved to his left, adjusting his stance so that he faced Omiq's profile and attempted to punch the Khajiit in the jaw, who leaned back and spun on his left foot, sending another round kick Kai's way.

He blocked the Khajiit's shin with his forearm, but had to lean to his right slightly as Omiq threw a straight left punch at his head while retracting his foot. Kai then attempted a straight side kick to his opponent's mid-section but Omiq jumped back and kicked Kai's heel, redirecting the kick to the Nord's left and disbalanced him slightly.

It took a second for Kai to regain his footing, but when he did, he took a round kick to his left cheek and a follow up spinning heel to his sternum. Kai had exhaled all the air in his lungs prior to impact, so he avoided being winded, but the force of impact caused him to stagger back.

"Nothing has really changed, nya," Omiq said between deep breaths. "Well, at least you haven't gotten rusty."

Sitting on his haunches, Kai licked his lips. Omiq's kick had cut it open. _Blood always tastes funny_, he thought. The metallic flavour never changed. But it was somewhat different this time. As he swallowed the liquid, he felt something shift and change inside of him. It was like awakening from a deep slumber. He felt disoriented at first, but then it all cleared as if a fog had lifted from his mind. He felt different. His mind was in sensory overload; hearing everything, seeing everything, smelling everything and even feeling the most minute vibrations of the floor. All of a sudden, he felt as if the world had slowed down several times.

Kai punched the ground and stood. Was it just him, or were his limbs moving faster than before?

"You still feel like going at it, nya?"

"Damn straight," Kai replied. The prospect of fighting somehow made his heart swell with elation.

As soon as Omiq had entered his stance, Kai charged. Omiq had always been faster than him, but this time, Kai was amazed at his own speed. His punches were but a blur and Omiq was having trouble blocking the flurry. The Khajiit's extraordinary reaction time was what didn't allow Kai to land a single punch, but Omiq had no room for attack. Kai was pushing him back every second.

At first, the Khajiit had tried to ward off and misdirect his punches, but soon resorted to simple blocking, shielding his face and chest with his forearms. Kai could hear his opponent wincing as every punch hit home. Omiq had never winced from his punches before.

Kai took a step back to give his friend a second of respite. Omiq exhaled and jerked his hands to allow for blood circulation in his forearms and quickly put his guard back up to block Kai's right jab.

The Nord smirked internally and retracted the feint. He then stepped to the side, dipped his left shoulder and sent an uppercut from under Omiq's guard, hitting the Khajiit squarely on the chin.

Omiq's head snapped backwards and his arms fell to his sides, momentarily limp. Kai then lashed out with his left foot, planting it on Omiq's right thigh and pushed it down, forcing him to kneel before bringing his elbow down atop the Khajiit's head. In quick succession, Kai kneed Omiq on the chin and thrust out with a straight kick to Omiq's solar plexus.

Omiq rolled backwards twice to create some distance between them and caught his breath while kneeling. Spitting out some blood, the Khajiit stood again wordlessly. Kai noticed the look of surprise and apprehension flash through his friend's eyes. His sudden burst of speed and ferocity had caught the Khajiit off guard. Now, he was prepared. Kai braced himself.

Kai charged again with his flurry of punches, aiming to end it fast. But now, Omiq met every punch with the point of his elbows. Kai hissed and took a step back when Omiq landed an elbow on his exposed right bicep. But he got no respite. The Khajiit leaped into the air, placed his hands on either of Kai's shoulders, cartwheeled in the air and landed behind Kai, kneeing him in the small of his back.

The Nord grunted in pain and was forced to take a step forward before whirling around with a straight right. Omiq leaned back and raised his right foot, kicking Kai on his injured bicep and pushing away the punch. He then followed it up with a spinning heel kick, but Kai was fast enough to step into Omiq's territory, allowing the Khajiit's leg to collide under his right armpit.

Feeling confident, Kai threw another fast right, but Omiq twisted his trapped leg and folded his knee, crossing his calf diagonally across Kai's shoulder blade and hitting him on the back of the head with his heel.

Kai stumbled forward at the sudden impact as Omiq spun fully, coming up behind him. Wasting no time, Omiq showed his profile to Kai's back and while the Nord turned, he made a motion as if preparing for a cartwheel, but instead he performed a sideways version of it, lifting both feet off the ground simultaneously and catching Kai on the jaw with a hasty butterfly kick.

Reeling from the impact, Kai had no time to prepare for the following straight kick. It caught him in the chest and would have sent him flying backwards had the Khajiit not latched onto his wrists and pulled him back, lifting his right leg and placing his shin across Kai's throat in the process.

"You lose, Captain," Omiq breathed deeply.

The Nord swallowed the growl rising in his throat and smiled at his friend. "Yeah. You've proven your point."

Omiq released him and sank to the ground, sighing as his rump made contact with the floor. "What happened to you?"

Casting a healing spell on himself, the Nord sighed. "I don't know. It's like… for a while, I wasn't myself. I… I don't know."

"And what about now? Are you in control?"

"Pretty much," Kai replied and sat on the ground across from Omiq and cast another healing spell on his friend.

"Oh, that feels good, nya," the Khajiit purred and lay down flat on his back. "Well, whatever it was, you became a lot faster and stronger. You ought to practice more with whatever you did. It'll prove invaluable to you, nya."

Kai brought his right knee up to his chest and folded his elbow over it, leaning his head back and looking up at the sky. He wondered what Ivan would have to say. If anybody knew of a cure, it'd be those reclusive mages in Winterhold.

The question was, did he want to pursue a cure?

He had felt stronger than ever before in his life for a few short moments… a few short moments where he wasn't in control of his actions. Kai frowned. Why did complications love him so?

"Whatever you say, Omiq," he said finally in barely a whisper, "Whatever you say."

The howling north wind drowned out his words completely, as if laughing at his predicament.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Ivan**

"Alright, this is the least fun place ever," Ivan muttered as he sat on the cold stone floor; he'd just dispatched a couple of nasty ice wraiths. What they were doing in the Midden, he did not know. It wasn't like the monstrosities needed privacy to mate or anything.

Could ice wraiths even mate? He had no clue.

Pushing himself to his feet, the Nord mage cancelled the healing spell he had been casting on himself. Just as he began to trudge on wearily, he became lightheaded, having to support himself with his staff. It felt as if the passageway was spinning and somehow, a tinny voice was speaking inside his head.

"_There is no help for you here,_" the voice proclaimed wearily. "_There is no solace in knowing what is to come. Your perseverance will only lead to disappointment, mage. Turn back. Leave…_"

The voice, and dizziness, faded away as quickly as they had come. Ivan stood there panting, feeling thoroughly drained of his strength. Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, the Nord sighed and started walking down the passageway leading to a steel door, cursing the Psijics with every step. He didn't ask to trigger a trap for some damn amulet. He had wanted nothing to do with fighting centuries old Draugr murderers who used elemental shields like they were cheap parlour tricks. And he definitely wanted no part of a big swirling mass of magicka and Altmer apparitions telling him what to do.

He had only been able to sneak away from his duties because the Arch Mage and the Master wizard were presently occupied in some high level meeting with a few ambassadors from the Synod Council. Ivan couldn't care less for what they were discussing. He just wanted to get his part of the job done. Paperwork was boring, but at least he didn't have to dance to someone else's tune.

Oh right. He did dance to Mirabelle's tune. _Better Mirabelle than old Altmer men_.

Putting his musings on a hold, Ivan tapped the door twice with his staff. Unsurprisingly, the voice inside his head resurfaced, stronger than before.

"_Still you persist? Very well. You may enter._"

It didn't look forward to this meeting; that much was evident from its tone. Neither did Ivan, for that matter. However, some things simply needed to be done.

"Like I have a choice in the matter," Ivan murmured and threw open the door, imagining all sorts of unrealistic and fantastical situations, only to find that the room contained… nothing. Absolutely nothing.

_Well. That was anticlimac- holy balls of Magnus! _

The room was suddenly bursting with light so bright that the startled mage tried to shield his eyes and back away, only to trip on his own legs and land on his butt.

"_I confess, you are more… entertaining than the others whom I have granted audience." _

_It's a talking ball of light, Ivan. It's a full on talking. Sphere. Of light! And it's talking in your head! You're not crazy, yet, though. Pinch your butt! Pinch it! See? It hurts! Stand up, Ivan. You've seen stranger stuff! You can do this!_

"_Your thoughts are most entertaining as well, mage."_

"Glad I could provide you with some modicum of entertainment," Ivan said sourly. "So. You're the Augur of Dunlain."

"I am that. And you are sitting on the floor."

"I happen to like the floor, thank you very much," the Nord said tersely. "I was sent-"

"_I know why you were sent_," the… thing spoke inside his head. "_Know that your efforts are in vain, boy. It has already begun. But those who have sent you have not told you what they seek_." A pause. "_What you seek_."

Why wasn't he surprised? The damned cryptic Psijics. "And what is it I'm seeking, exactly?"

"_You seek that which all who wield magic see: Knowledge. You shall find that Knowledge will corrupt. It will destroy. It will consume. You seek meaning, shelter in Knowledge. You will not find it." _There was a slight pause in its speech as if the Augur was weighing his next words._ "The Thalmor sought the same thing, and it shall lead to his end as it has so many others."_

_Thalmor? As in Ancano? What was he doing down here? Why that dirty, good for nothing mother-_

"_There will be time for aggravation, mage. For now, listen to what I have to say," the ball of light spoke in Ivan's head again. "The one who calls himself Ancano has sought my knowledge as well, but through very different questions. Your path differs from most. You are being guided, pushed towards something."_ Then the voice said a hint of approval, "_It is a good path, one untraveled by many. It is a path that can save your College. I will tell you what you need to know to follow it further_."

Ivan sighed in relief and rose to his feet, picking up his staff as he did so. "Thank you. So, what is it that I need to know?"

"_You, and those aiding you, wish to know more about the Eye of Magnus. You wish to avoid the disaster of which you are not yet aware." The Augur said matter-of-factly."But to see – to really see through Magnus' Eye without being blinded, you require his staff."_

For the second time in five minutes, Ivan's heart leapt to his throat. Was the Augur of Dunlain saying what he thought he was saying?

"_Events now spiral quickly towards the inevitable center, so you must act with haste, youngling. Take this knowledge to your superior. He can further guide you in your quest to retrieve the Staff of Magnus._"

* * *

"Sorry," Ivan apologized for the umpteenth time after bumping into somebody. He was too dazed to recognize who it was, but he had to find-

"Can't you at least look at where you're going?" Mirabelle Ervine snapped and rubbed her forehead. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were drunk."

It took a few moments for Ivan to realize that he had bumped into the very person who he had been looking for. Ah, what a stroke of luck!

Ivan quickly placed his hands on the Master Wizard's shoulder and said, "Mira, slap me."

"Ehh?"

"Don't ask questions. Just do it! Hard!"

The slap caused his neck to snap to the side faster than a shock spell. Ivan saw stars for a while before his vision cleared. The cloud of dazedness having been miraculously lifted, he was finally able to take in his surroundings: he was in the College courtyard, it was nigh evening and the most beautiful woman in the world was staring oddly at him as if he had grown a second head and she didn't know how else to react.

"Oh sweet Magnus, thank you," Ivan heaved a sigh of relief and shook his head. It felt like awakening from a long nightmare.

"Well, that certainly helped with the frustration accumulated during the Synod meeting," the Breton smiled and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on Ivan's cheek. "You should ask me to do that more often."

"I should hope not," Ivan sighed and tugged a startled Mirabelle to his chambers in the Hall of Elements.

"Where-" Mirabelle began but stopped herself when Ivan kicked open the doors leading to the staircase which in turn led to the Arch-Mage's quarters. "Why- eep!" she began again and was forced to swallow her question while Ivan flew up the stairs with her in tow.

"Ivan, I want an expla-"

"No time, darling," Ivan said absently and then proceeded to kick open the double doors and stormed into Savos Aren's quarter's, paying no heed to the old Dunmer who had yelped and jumped from his chair in shock.

"I need to talk to both of you. Now. Right now. Right this very moment," Ivan spoke rather quickly and unceremoniously plopped down on the floor. "Or else I think I'm going to have my head explode or something equally gory."

"Well, you certainly have arrested our attention," Aren spoke tersely and looked over at Mirabelle. "Mira, do you know why he's hyperventilating?"

The Breton mage had by then knelt behind her lover and placed her left palm on his back, moving it in wide circles whilst casting a low-powered restoration spell. "Your guess is as good as mine, Arch-Mage," she replied, her tone showing concern which her features had not betrayed.

"I feel better now. Thank you," Ivan said after a few short seconds and smiled warmly at her. "I guess it was all the stress piling up…"

"You're such an irresponsible-"

"Mira, would you please shut the doors?" the old Dunmer said quietly and Mira begrudgingly obeyed. She shot Ivan a withering look, letting him know that her sermon was only delayed and not forgotten.

But at that moment, being scolded by Mira was the least of Ivan's concerns.

"Now then," the Arch-Mage leaned back in his chair and interwove his fingers. "I believe you had something to discuss, hmm?"

And discuss Ivan did. He mentioned in explicit detail all that had transpired in Saarthal, and after that with the Psijic monks and most recently with the Augur. He forgot details, went back and reiterated, and left no stone unturned in his report. Neither the Arch-Mage nor the Master Wizard spoke a word during his little oration. Only when he finished with the mention of the Staff of Magnus did the two exchange a look that Ivan couldn't quite decipher.

"That's all I had," he said tiredly while rubbing his eyes. "Now if you people are done with your secretive glances, tell me what you know, because you clearly do."

The old Dunmeri mage stroked his long beard for a long moment. "The Staff of Magnus, you say. The Augur mentioned it quite specifically, yes?"

"Yes."

"It's a curious coincidence, in the very least. Wouldn't you agree, Mira?"

"That I do," the Breton spoke her first words in a long while. "Very curious."

Frowning, Ivan raised his hand pointed at his head. "Hello? Poor ignorant bastard who has no idea what you people are talking about right here."

"Hmm? Oh yes, I never got around to telling you," Mirabelle cleared her throat. "You see, the Synod showed up a couple of months ago too, just like today."

Ivan nodded. "I remember."

"They accused us of having the Staff locked away in a broom closet or something," the Breton mage continued, the corners of her lips curling upward to form a small smirk. "Those poor buffoons. So much politics, so little magic."

Ivan opened his mouth to ask something but closed it when Savos Aren started speaking. "We were taken by surprise, Mira and I, when they came knocking at our door back then. They seemed amiable enough but their questioning made us… uneasy."

Mirabelle snorted. "That's an understatement."

"Okay, so does anybody know where the Staff is?" Ivan asked.

The Arch-Mage hiked his shoulders. "No one here does. The Synod seemed convinced it was somewhere in Skyrim. They inquired about the ruins of Mzulft, but that's all I remember. It sounded like they were heading there, though they were rather secretive about why," he said. "They came today asking for assistance because their excursion had gone awry."

"Something about a focusing crystal," Mirabelle added.

"I'm confused now," Ivan said and scratched his stubble. "What does a focusing crystal have to do with the Staff of Magnus?"

"No clue, to be perfectly honest," Aren responded with a wistful smile. "You must understand, the Staff was last seen probably centuries ago, and is widely considered a myth by modern scholars. As such, not many people specialize their research on the Staff. Thus, it is completely probable that the Synod is privy to information we are not."

Mirabelle, however, appeared unimpressed. "The Synod are only interested in hoarding magical artifacts to strengthen themselves and curry the favour of the Emperor."

"So nobody knows anything," Ivan summed it all up and slapped his forehead. "Brilliant. Fucking splendid."

"Well, if you do want to know what the Synod know, why not run to Mzulft?" Mirabelle huffed, annoyed. "From what that Gavros person said, he would be going back there. Something about dropping off supplies."

Ivan stared at the Master Wizard for a long moment before grinning widely. "You know, that actually sounds like a good plan."

"What?" Mirabelle snapped, stricken. "I wasn't being ser-"

But Ivan had already stood and picked up his own staff. "How long will it take to get to Mzulft, do you think?"

"Two days by horseback, but you can't seriously be consi-"

"Good. I'll talk to Enthir about this focusing crystal contraption," Ivan replied, his mind already making calculations about distance and time. "I'll also have to blackmail that phony mage at the Jarl's court for a horse."

"But-but-" Mirabelle spluttered. "Arch-Mage! Dissuade him of this preposterous scheme! Going alone to a Dwarven ruin is nothing short of suicide!"

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Ivan huffed and frowned at his lover.

The Dunmeri mage only smiled. "If his decision is made, who am I to stop it? Besides, Ivan here has been a part of several expeditions both here in Skyrim and in Morrowind. I am sure he can handle himself."

Ivan beamed. "Now thank _you_ for the vote of confidence."

Mirabelle threw her hands up in frustration. "Do what you want then."

"Now then that's settled," Savos Aren turned his amused gaze towards Ivan. "When do you plan to leave?"

"Day after tomorrow," Ivan answered and then looked at Mira with a soft smile. "I want to get a couple of good nights of sleep in. Among other things."

Mirabelle Ervine turned away and blushed.

* * *

**Kai**

He was seething. Livid, even. Who knew? He was never good with words.

"For the last bloomin' time," Kai hissed, "I don't give a hairy barnacle's arse about attire."

"Ah, but I do. And as your doting wife, it is my duty to see that you're properly outfitted," Reina said, placing a solemn fist over her heart. "Besides, I really like it when you squirm."

"Fuck you to Oblivion and back and back again, you-you-"

"Beautiful, intelligent and overall lovely member of the female populace?" Reina filled up the gap with a little laugh. "Oh Kai-pie, I never thought I'd get a compliment out of you! It means so much to me!"

On the other side of the curtain, Kai smacked his forehead. _What have I gotten myself into?_

He had been blackmailed into marriage and his so-called wife had been freeloading off him for the better part of a month. Now, one week before the Old Life festival, she had dragged him to the Radiant Raiment for a set of 'presentable' clothes- whatever that meant.

So it was that the raven haired Nord found himself muttering angrily in the changing rooms of the clothes shop trying out the various formal garb Reina had selected for him. He felt awkward in each of them and his wife (Hah!) had discarded them all; except for the black one he was currently pulling on. Why did the nightmares always have to descend on him, godsdammit?!

"Are you done? Should I come in?"

"Stay away, woman!" Kai bellowed whilst fiddling with the strings of his tunic. "I'm almost done, damn you."

"Puu you're so… oh. Oh my."

"What?" Kai asked, suddenly self-conscious. The fucking dress made him look like a jester, he knew it.

"Uh, nothing," Reina said quickly, fanning her face with a hand while smiling brightly. "You just startled me, is all. Didn't expect you to look so… so _good_."

He looked good? "I look good?"

"Mmmhmmmm!" she nodded vigorously. "Trust me, when a woman says you look good, you don't question her. Ever."

Kai looked down at himself and frowned. His outfit consisted of a black long-sleeved tunic that laced up over a black undershirt, loose black leggings that were tucked into the troublesome boots which reached just below his knees and fit rather snugly against his calves. The leggings also came with a leather belt which was supposedly used to keep the pants from falling, and to strap in weapons or something. Kai made a mental note to not tuck in the tunic and roll up the sleeves. Fuck being prim and proper if it made him uncomfortable.

"I don't see what's so special, really. This is constrictive. How do people dance and go all _twirly_ wearing things like this? Scratch dancing, how do they even walk?"

"So, found anything you like yet?" an Altmer woman came up to her and asked in the most bored tones Kai had ever heard.

The Radiant Raiment was owned by two Altmeri sisters; Taarie and Endarie. Kai mainly referred to them as Bitch one and Bitch two, nicknames reflecting their personalities. He could never keep track of which bitch was which, though.

"We have, actually," Reina replied rather pleasantly. "We'll take the one he's currently wearing."

The Bitch looked over Kai's appearance and the Nord man found himself wanting to shrink away from her scrutinizing gaze. He wasn't meant to be all fashionable and going to parties, damn it!

"It's the fine choice," the woman finally said. "Suits him, too. Is this for the High Queen's ball later this month?"

"That it is."

"Huh. If that's the case, why don't you try out something for yourself? Our women's collection is rather expansive."

Reina smiled politely. "You're very sweet to offer, but I already have something I plan on wearing."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Thank you."

Disappointed at having lost a potential customer, the Altmer Bitch shrugged and sauntered off to the front of the shop, probably to resume her left off argument with her bitch of a sister.

Kai sighed deeply. "So do I like take this off now or what?"

"Mhmm. Or I could do it for you."

Kai hastily drew the curtains and let loose a string of expletives. He only got Reina's sonorous laughter in response.

_It's worth it_, he thought with a reticent half-smile.

* * *

One thousand fucking Septims for a fancy arse dress was so not worth it.

"Oh cheer up," Reina patted his shoulder as the couple strolled through the cobbled streets of Solitude in the bright afternoon sun, "It's not like it's a bad investment or anything."

"I don't give a fuck about clothes." Kai repeated for the umpteenth time. "It's of no use to me! I could have bought a new crossbow, custom made exploding bolts, a couple bottles of mead and still have Septims to spare!"

"Ah but didn't it feel nice to wear it?" Reina persisted. "It's not a bad thing to dress pretty once in a while, you know."

"For you, perhaps," Kai grumbled. "You need to do all kinds of jobs at all kinds of places. I don't. I hunt man-eaters. I don't have to dress pretty for that."

The redhead sighed and shook her head. "You never were a romantic. You won't understand."

Kai didn't reply. He could have corrected her, told her that he _had _(italics) in fact been a romantic a long time ago. Fat load of good that had done.

As they rounded the Bards College, he was subject to a rather irregular sight.

The members of the College, along with five or six Bretons whom Kai didn't recall as having seen before were practicing some sort of piece on a plethora of percussion and stringed instruments Kai had never even seen before. The practice session was being held on the courtyard and a small group of people had formed a circle around the musicians, listening to their attempts to create a synchronized melody.

"Oh, wow," Reina uttered in open admiration. "I've never seen anything like this! Is this a rehearsal for the ball or something? Are they going to be playing something and have us dance?"

"No bloody clue," Kai supplied her with a speedy answer.

"It's actually to welcome the Dragonborn," a voice behind them offered. "The great hero will be an honoured guest at the ball, so the College, along with a few guest bards from High Rock are putting together a little something special to welcome him upon his arrival."

Kai turned his head and was met with the smiling face of Aldis, a former comrade of his. The man had kept his full beard still, and had not changed much physically over the past two years after Kai had been discharged. He was clad in the usual red cuirass of the Solitude guard, targe strapped to his left shoulder and mace hanging from the belt strap on his right.

"Aldis," Kai acknowledged the man with a nod and held out his hand, which the other shook firmly.

"Always a pleasure to run into you, Captain."

Kai shook his head. "You're the Captain now, Aldis. I heard you got promoted after I left. I wasn't around to congratulate you then, so congratulations."

Aldis grinned shamefacedly. "It's not really a promotion, per se. They just had to fill the void somehow, and since a lot of people resigned alongside you, I was the only one left."

"Seeing as you have not been demoted yet, I'd say you're doing a good job and deserve the post. However, I am curious," Kai narrowed his lids, "Just what are you the Captain of?"

"The Solitude guard," Aldis answered warily. "Our old… unit has been dissolved and has no immediate hope of being resurrected."

"And you were told this by?"

"General Tulius."

"And he tells you everything, doesn't he?" Kai smirked widely upon seeing Aldis's apparent discomfort. He would have poked him further, but Reina came to the poor man's rescue.

"Why hello there! You must have been my husband's former associate, yes? Aldis was it?" she didn't stop for him to respond. "My name is Reina. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Aldis gaped wordlessly at her for a few seconds. "His wife?" He turned to Kai. "Your wife? You got married? How? When? Why?!"

Kai's right eyeball twitched. Somehow, he didn't like where this was headed.

"Well, I'll tell you," Reina laughed airily and proceeded to relate a rather animated account of their concocted courting. It was full of lovey-dovey moments and made Kai cringe on several occasions.

"I think he about gets it, don't you think?" he snapped finally, interrupting a rather piquant retelling of how he had asked for her hand in marriage.

Reina was about to protest, but Aldis beat her to it. "But it was just getting good!"

"I'm sure she'll get around to telling you some other time," Kai said, trying to keep his rising temper from affecting his tone.

"I suppose," Aldis said thoughtfully. "Well, I'm in charge of security for the ball. Maybe I'll run into you both there?"

"Sure thing!" Reina chirped happily. "You still haven't heard the best part."

"Ah well, I'll just have to wait for it I guess," Aldis laughed and looked over at Kai. "I suppose miracles do happen, eh?"

_As do catastrophes_, Kai thought but didn't say anything.

"Well, now I must get back to my duties," Aldis said and smiled at both of them. "Have a good day, both of you."

"He's a nice one, isn't he?" Reina said to Kai as they both stood and watched Aldis walk up to the recruits training in front of Fort Dour. "I never knew you had such nice friends."

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?"

His tone had surprised her; it showed in her face.

"What do you mean?"

"You had me marry you by blackmailing me just because you wanted to steal some trinket from Elisif," Kai began quietly though heatedly. "You might've become the Guildmaster by sleeping with the Mercer guy and everybody in your little brood might be used to your methods of getting your way whilst not giving a fuck about anybody else, but I'm not part of your party! Fuck, I wanted to have nothing to do with you or that fucking city. But no! You just had to reel me back in. Oblivion, Reina! It's been seven years since we parted ways. Even then, we weren't as close as we were back in the orphanage. I don't know you and nor do I trust you. How the fuck can I? We're different people now and I daresay you wouldn't have gone through with all the shit you piled on me had you been in my place. I don't even know why I'm going through with this in the first place!"

Out of steam at the end of his tirade, the Nord man ran his fingers wearily through his raven locks, waiting for the redhead's response.

"Do you feel better now?"

Kai blinked. That was not the response he had been expecting.

Kai looked down at her eyes and surprised himself. Her bluish-gray eyes, which were always so bright, had dulled considerably. Her tone was also very quiet.

"If you're done, why don't you take a walk and cool off?" she said and turned around. "I'll meet you back at the house for dinner."

He couldn't respond to that. Nothing in the world could have possibly prepared him for that. He just nodded silently.

Reina turned around on her heels and started walking away, leaving Kai to his thoughts. He couldn't make heads or tails of the situation. He found that her response had quite efficiently quelled his temper as well. Damn that woman; always knowing which button to press.

"Oh and Kai?' she called over her shoulder and he snapped back into attention. "Mercer died almost a year ago."

Kai could have slapped himself right then and there.

"I suppose we certainly don't know each other well enough. The current us, at any rate," she said with a sad smile and turned back, waving over her shoulder. "I'll see you later tonight."

* * *

"I'm _so_ fucking stupid."

Saying that aloud, he smiled wistfully.

Anger had clouded his judgment. Anger and frustration both. He would never have exploded like he did seven years ago, this he knew for certain. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He just… wanted to get it all off his chest. It had been eating away at him for a while now, and had he not snapped today, he would've snapped in a few days and that would have been way worse.

What he felt most now was guilt. That and remorse. Basically, he felt like a complete arse, and acknowledging that sobered him somewhat.

Just because Reina wasn't one to take other's feelings into account didn't necessarily mean he could do the same thing. If he did, there would be no difference between the two.

But they always had been similar. _Too similar_.

They had always thought along the same line, completed each others' sentences even. _What has changed?_ What had happened in those seven years apart that had turned them into such different people?

What had possessed him to spit out things he did not know for certain? Granted, he did feel better after his mini rant, but words had a nasty habit of not being returnable.

He sighed deeply as the cool night air whipped at his face. Kai had been sitting at the pier for the better part of the evening. When he was a lad, he would often run away from the orphanage and sit at the pier overlooking Lake Honrich. Something about the water and the wind soothed him. Always had.

Solitude was by no means a substitute for Riften, but the water was there and so was the wind. The light from the dual moons cast an eerie silvery blanket over the water. The dockyard was nigh deserted, save for the odd patrolling guard every few hours. Everyone had retreated to the warmth of their homes or the Winking Skeever after the day, leaving Kai quite alone with his thoughts. Solitude was preparing for the biggest event of the year and seemingly nothing could bring down the jolly mood of the citizens.

Unless the place caught fire and burnt down to the ground somehow.

The Nordic hunter rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had no way to tell the time, but he surmised from the position of the moons that it was dinner time already.

Had he really been sulking for that long?

"I really am stupid," he said again.

_That you are. But a good kind of stupid._

That was what she would have said had she been there.

He then slapped his forehead. The lack of sleep was finally getting to him. He had started imagining voices now. _Won't be too long before I start hallucinating._

Kai reached out and splashed some cold water on his face, head and on the nape of his neck. It jolted his dulled senses and he felt himself get a tad saner.

Rising to his feet, the Nord wheeled around and made his way back to his house.

* * *

"Patio," Omiq said without even looking up from balancing his ledger. "Food'll be on the counter for when you two are ready for it."

"Right," Kai replied uncertainly as he crossed the threshold. "She hasn't eaten?"

"Nope. Looked sort of distraught. Didn't talk much, either."

"Well, damn," the Nord muttered and made for the staircase. "Where's Ghorbash?"

"In bed. Don't you have other things to worry about right now?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said offhandedly and took the stairs three at a time. Before long, he found himself before the door leading to the patio- and lost all his courage.

_Come on, you've faced people trying to kill you by the crateloads most of your adult life_, he scolded himself. _That's just one woman on the other side. One extremely upset and terrifying woman. Okay, that last thought did not help_.

He ran his palm along his face and steadied himself. He had been the instigator of this little episode, and it was time to end it.

_Just get this over with._

He slowly pushed aside the double doors and stepped onto the patio.

Every time he stepped out here the first thing to arrest his attention would be the spectacular view of the College of Winterhold in the distance. Seeing the place, even from the other end of Skyrim, made him feel just a bit closer to that asshole of a half-brother of his.

Not this time, though.

The first thing he saw was a tangle of scarlet hair flying freely with the wind. The first thing he heard was a string of expletives from her mouth as she tried in vain to tie her hair up in a knot. His lips curled into a smile and he approached her with slow, measured steps.

Omiq had fitted the table with two extra chairs so that the four of them could dine together. Reina had occupied a chair next to the low wall, peering over at the Sea of Ghosts.

"Why constrict it?" he said to her while closing the gap. "Freedom is for all. Especially hair."

She turned to him with a sour expression. "Tell me that once you've lived through decades with long hair threatening to swallow your face."

The raven haired Nord smiled and sat down on the chair beside her. He could have sat across from her, but for some inexplicable reason, he felt like he had to sit beside her. Why, he would never know.

"You're late for dinner," she commented after a bout of uncomfortable silence.

"So it seems," he replied. "Did I worry you?"

"Somewhat," the redhead said and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Where were you?"

"Communing with nature."

"I see."

They fell back to their silence, both sitting upright stiffly without looking at each other. Kai was the first to break the status quo by leaning back and sighing.

"Remember that time when you somehow convinced the other girls at the orphanage to lift their skirts and show passers by their underwear?"

That actually got her grinning. "I do. For my defense, I'll say that I was eight years old and didn't know any better!"

Kai reached out and patted the top of her head like he used to a long time ago. "Don't worry about it, princess. I'm not about to blame you for something I myself thoroughly enjoyed."

"_Princess_, eh?" she finally turned to face him with a small smirk. "I haven't been called that in about fourteen years."

"Mhmm. I know," he said and retracted his hand. "Look, about earlier today-"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry," Kai said. "I was frustrated, I guess. But I'm not going to hide behind that excuse. I jumped to conclusions. I behaved like a prepubescent teenager who had a sweetroll stolen from him," Reina snorted, "and I apologise. Except that bit, I meant every word, though."

"I know you did," she smiled sadly and patted his knee. "My life has allowed for very little exposure to honesty, Kai. I lie, I steal and I run a Guild of cutpurses and pickpockets and burglars. As such, I had to evolve in a certain way to fit in and grow, you know? Sometimes, I just wish I could be honest and upfront about it all. I don't like having to use the people I consider my friends," she smiled at him. "It makes me feel guilty and queasy. But I just couldn't come to you and ask you to do this insane thing. You would have declined right then and there. I did what I thought was best and I don't regret it. I acknowledge the fact that it has been hard on you, Kai, and for that I apologise too."

Kai only nodded. "You're being honest now. That's all that matters."

She gave him a curious look. "How do you know?"

_I can hear the heartbeats of people rise when they try to sell a monologue of lies, but yours didn't._ "I have my ways."

"And I thought I was good at lying, at least," Reina sighed dramatically. "Well, it was a fun half month, Kai. If you ever visit Riften or are in need of our services, don't hesitate to stop by my house."

Kai blinked. "What?"

"I'll be leaving for Riften in the morning," she told him. "I figured it would be unfair to you to subject you to anymore of this scheme. I don't want you to hate me over this. I'll get another opportunity sometime. You probably had wanted nothing to do with this right from the start."

Kai frowned when he found her staring intently at her knees. "Now you're the one jumping to conclusions."

"Huh?"

"While it _is_ true that I think that whatever you're attempting to do is abysmally idiotic," the raven haired man smiled and ruffled his companion's hair, "I really want to see how you stir up trouble this time."

Reina managed a pout whilst she tried to tame her hair again. "Even if that means having to dress fancy and brown nose rich and important people with sticks so big up their arses that it might come out of their noses?"

"I'm from Riften, Coldridge. Whatever you can do, I can do."

Reina smiled at that. "Well, at least you've retained the part of yourself that likes to see the shit blow up."

"I guess so…"

Reina remained silent for a while. "So you're really serious? You want to go through with this?"

Kai shrugged. "I don't see why not. I get free food and drink."

"You know what? Why don't we spend this last week getting to know each other?" Reina said suddenly. "We have seven years of catching up to do. Besides, I feel like I don't really know the current you all that well."

"That last statement works both ways," Kai replied. "But yeah, I'd like that. But there are some things I can't or don't want to talk to anybody about. I'm sure you have things like that too."

"That I do," the redhead said and grinned before holding out her hand. "My name is Reina Coldridge, good sir, and I shall be your wife for this week. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Kai suddenly burst out laughing. "You're something else, you know that?"

"What?!" Reina herself snickered. "I thought it'd be fun to be all official and shit."

"Mhmm," the raven haired hunter looked at her admiringly. Vestiges of his crazy childhood friend were shining through, and he felt elated.

"Your food's getting cold!" Omiq hollered from downstairs and Kai hollered a "Coming!" right back.

"Hungry?" Reina sked.

"Famished. You?"

"I could use some food, yeah," the redhead said and stood. "So husband, shall we dine?"

"Just a bit," Kai said and took her hand in his, somewhat startling her. "Milady, it's my pleasure to be your husband for the week," he said and brought her knuckles to his lips. "And please, call me Kai."

He then got up from his seat and walked off towards the door leading downstairs with a giant smirk on his face, leaving a gobsmacked Reina stunned and spluttering.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**Casair**

Casair always had an affinity for music, something she had inherited from her mother. Her mother had always sung her lullabies when she was a child, enchanting her with a fascination for melody. When she turned ten, Casair was taught how to sing and play the drum. It was a rather gleeful experience and a welcome distraction from all the sparring she did with her father. In fact, Casair had developed quite a reputation among their little brood as a budding musical talent.

But then the Silver-Bloods had sent their clean-up crew to the Forsworn camp. For three years Casair had not touched an instrument, nor had she sung. Until a fortnight ago, that was.

The band of a couple dozen Forsworn dressed in proper civilian garb, with Aigil at the helm, had walked straight through the gates of Solitude under the guise of a travelling band of bards from High Rock, come to participate in the Old Life festivities. They had then mingled with the Bards College, and Aigil had made an offer which headmaster Viarmo could not refuse; to perform the song of the Dragonborn when the man himself was paying Solitude a visit on the big day. What better way to greet the saviour of Skyrim?

Aigil had hand-picked their group based on musical talents, so it wasn't a problem when the College professors asked them about their background in the field. Most were impressed upon learning that some of the Forsworn could play multiple instruments.

That had been two weeks ago. Now, five days from the ball and dozens of rehearsal sessions later, Casair was beginning to like Solitude. The people were friendly and happy in this city. The Forwsworn had always painted Nords as jackasses, but she now knew this was not the case and Solitude served as a great example. Here, the Nords coexisted peacefully with Imperials, Argonians, Redguards, Altmer, Breton, Orsimer and even Dunmer and Khajiit. The city was bursting with life and Casair wanted her people to see that Nords were completely capable of empathy.

Alas, most Forsworn were here because they wanted revenge. Such things as subtlety and diplomacy flew a few hundred yards over the top of their heads. Aigil's patriotic speeches every now and then didn't help their open-mindedness.

The girl sighed and leaned back in her chair. The College had been kind enough to accommodate them in their own premises. Though the place was huge, there weren't many rooms for one to sleep; only about six or so extra bedrooms. That meant having to share with three others. Casair didn't mind of course, she was used to sleeping around a lot of people in the various Forsworn camps dotting the wilderness of the Reach. Plus, the Dark Brotherhood wouldn't send its assassins after her if she was constantly amidst other people. At least, she hoped so.

Though the initial terror had lessened, it wasn't totally gone. Casair doubted if it ever would. She had been so sure that the Brotherhood had been destroyed. Hadn't the Penis-whatever-their-name-was obliterated the last remaining sanctuary in Tamriel? That was all people would talk about, before the Emperor died, of course. The Elder Council had said that Titus Mede the second had died of sea-sickness coupled with a weak heart. Many, however, argued the Brotherhood persevered, and that it was they who had assassinated the Empire with their dying breath.

Casair stretched her arms and closed the book on the table before her. It was late in the afternoon and she had been reading up on Queen Potema, the infamous Wolf Queen of Solitude, after having lunch. She had heard some rumours about how a group of necromancers had tried to bring the Wolf Queen back to life earlier in the year, but were stopped. Not knowing much about her, Casair had decided to enlighten herself. Though it wasn't very flattering, Potema struck Casair as having been a very strong individual. Though the other facets of her personality were less than pleasing, the girl wished such strength of character on herself. It would help in the long run.

The Bards College had an extensive library, but did not have many spare instruments. Headmaster Viarmo had ordered the delivery of a few trumpets and violas because without them, the song of the Dragonborn wouldn't have the desired effect. The instruments were supposed to have arrived yesterday, unfortunately there had been a delay. Used as they were to taking turns on the few the College did have, a full rehearsal where everybody had the desired instrument would be instrumental. Casair worried that they might muck up the performance if they didn't get in enough practice.

Sacrificing her chair, the girl stalked through the empty hallways. Most of the residents were partaking in a little afternoon nap. She nodded and smiled at the few who were around, mostly tuning their instruments or swapping tales. They were a peaceful folk, these bards. Her comrades were most likely hounding the Winking Skeever, picking up tavern wenches or men and perhaps indulging in some mild drinking before evening practice sessions.

She strolled over to the main gate and pushed it open, walking out into the large courtyard and taking a deep breath. The air was cool and fresh, with a hint of salt. Except for the odd pair of patrolling guards every few minutes, the cobbled streets of Solitude were almost empty.

Does everybody sleep in the afternoon in this town?

"Taking in the sights?" Casair turned her head to see headmaster Viarmo walking towards her from the College's small amphitheatre, a mug of mead in one hand. "I must confess, not much to see around here at this time. People take the afternoon off from work and head to their homes for a little rest. Keeps them fresh and lively in these festive times. Auriel knows we've had enough cantankerous individuals within these walls."

Casair smiled politely. She liked the Altmer headmaster; humorous and kind. He was like the favourite uncle of almost all the members, except old Inge Six-Fingers. That old bat hated everybody.

"Headmaster-"

"Please, call me Viarmo," the elf said with a smile. "Everybody else does anyway."

"Right." She wasn't used to calling elderly people by their first names, but if the person in question insisted, who was she to refuse? "Viarmo, then."

"Mhmm. What's on your mind?"

"How does one get over nerves before a performance?" she asked curiously. "I mean, I've never had a real performance before. I'm new to the group. Just the thought of standing before a crowd and singing..."

"Ah. The age old question," Viarmo mused and took a small sip from his tankard. "You know, when I was young lad, my family used to live in Imperial City, which was the cosmopolitan heartland of the Empire. Have you ever been to Imperial City?" The Altmer looked at Casair and when she shook her head, he continued. "Hmm. People from all walks of life made a home for themselves in Cyrodiil, and that was reflected in the Imperial City. Anyway, my grandmother had an instrument called a harpsichord. You might have heard of it. No? Well, how do I explain it... no. Better yet, I'll let you see one."

"You have one here?"

"Oh no no. I ordered one from Anvil last month. It should have been shipped to Solitude yesterday, along with the rest of the order, but tardiness gets to the best of us. Anyhow, after I presented some musical talents, my grandmother decided to teach me how to play her harpsichord, and I'd like to say that I took to it like a fish takes to water," he smiled and took another measured sip of his beverage. "I practised relentlessly, you see. In my youth, I was very competitive, and wanted to outshine the rest of my so-called competition. There was a musical tournament, and I enlisted, confident that I would make my mark. Ah, I remember that day well," the headmaster said fondly. "I was supremely confident. A bit conceited too, if you can imagine that. There were some damn good musicians there that day, but to me, I outclassed them all. But when my turn came, and I had to walk on to the stage and stand and play before almost a hundred people... heh. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. As you can imagine, playing anything in that state is quite difficult."

"So what happened?"

"It was a horrendous performance, if I do say so myself. I was dejected. Couldn't even bear to look at the instrument afterwards. So my grandmother taught me this little trick, which I'm passing on to you. To steady your nerves, what you do is you breathe in for three or four counts, hold it for three to four counts, breathe out for that same duration, and then do it all again. It's a cycle," Viarmo said, following it up with a short demonstration. "Believe me, whatever you're feeling now is nothing compared to what you'll feel moments before the performance. So you might as well start practicing that breathing exercise."

The sound of hooves on the cobbled stone in the distance made Casair curious. "You really aren't helping with my anxiety..." she said while craning her neck towards the direction of the noise.

The Altmer chuckled. "You have a wonderful voice, dear. I'm sure you'll be all right."

A medium-sized fly drawn by a couple of horses rounded the corner by the Hall of the Dead and came straight towards them, slowing down and stopping only when the carriage was standing right in front of the courtyard.

"Is this the Bards College?" the coachman, a burly Nord, drawled, then hawked. "Got some'in for you folks. Lo's o' musical s'uff. 'is the roigh' place or whaw'?"

"Finally," Viarmo sighed, equal parts relieved, excited and frustrated. "What took you so long? You're a whole day late!"

The coachman leapt off his seat, followed by his Redguard companion. "Blame the 'orses, ma'e," he said and spat. "Cri'ers needed res'. Wouldn' be doin' nuffin wif dead 'orses, see?"

Casair had never heard an accent quite like that before. She didn't have time to ponder as Viarmo continued, "Well, whatever the case, I'm glad you could finally deliver those. Now please, bring them around. I'll open the door for you."

The Nord shrugged. "You 'eard 'im. 'elp me get 'em down," he told the equally burly Redguard man who scoffed in annoyance.

Casair was a tad intimidated by this pair; the orange haired Nord and the turban wearing Redguard. They were both dressed in sleeveless, belted tunics and tan leggings, which did little to hide their muscly figures.

_They can snap my neck like a twig!_

"Le's see 'ere," the Nord said as the Redguard climbed onto the back of the carriage and handed him two violas. "Six o' these 'ere fings. Missy, take 'ese over to wherevuh i' is you keep 'em," he told Casair and handed her the pair of violas. "We'll bring in the rest."

After about ten or so minutes, the violas and trumpets had found their respective, and Casair watched, from a safe distance, as the pair of men carried the Harpischord to the main hall, as per Viarmo's instructions.

"Yes, a bit to the right. Just a bit more! No no no, that's too much, back it up boys. A bit to the left, and there, put her down now. Gently does it, gently mind you! Yes, yes, lovely," the Altmer said as he strode over to the large instrument and ran his fingertips over the oddly shaped wooden lid. To Casair, it looked like a strangely shaped coffin on legs. On the front of the contraption was a row of what appeared to be smooth rectangular buttons, with smaller dark ones between them. It was certainly a strange construction. She wondered how the thing sounded.

"Me favah used to 'ave hisself one o' 'ese," the Nord said, smiling softly. "Don't remembuh much o' it, though. Anyway, our work 'ere is done." So saying, he held his hand out expectantly to Viarmo. The Altmer stared at him for a few seconds before realising what it was that they meant. "Oh of course. Forgive me, I was so lost in looking at this beauty that..." he shook his head. "Please, take a seat, gentlemen. I'll be right back."

"Don' moin' if I do," the Nord said as he sank into one of the cushioned chairs. "Blimey, 'ese are more comfor'able than me bed!"

The Redguard shot the Nord a withering look, but didn't comment.

The bards who had not slept, along with those who had woken up from all the noise were now admiring the harpsichord. Most of them had not seen one personally. Casiar was thankful she didn't have to be in the same room as two human behemoths capable of breaking her in half.

"This is hand-crafted by Antonio Amati," one of the bards surrounding the large wooden coffin of music said. "It doesn't get any better than this."

"The violas are made by him, too!"

"Yeah, his shop in Anvil supplies instruments to almost all the provinces of Tamriel. This harpsichord must've been worth a small fortune. Probably worth it too."

"Are we going to learn how to play this? I'm so ready!"

"What makes you think Viarmo will even let you touch it? You didn't help buy it."

Casair smiled faintly. She liked to think that she would have been among those enthusiastic bards if the events of her life had played out differently.

"Is i' always loike 'is?" the orange haired Nord came up and asked her, flicking his thumb over his shoulder at the squabbling mass of bards.

"More or less," Casair answered uncertainly, inching away imperceptibly as the man leaned his back on the wall next to her. "I'm new here, so I don't know how it used to be before."

"Ah. Lo's a new students come 'ere, eh?"

"That's how it generally goes, yeah."

"So whaw' do you do 'ere? Like, do ya play somfin' or sing or whaw'?"

"I sing, play the drum and the flute."

The nodded his head in approval and admiration. "You any good?"

Casair shuffled her feet. "I... don't know. I like to think I'm decent?"

The man would have said more but Viarmo came to her rescue at this time. "Well, I can't offer you much, so I'm hoping three hundred Septims will cover your expenses?" When the Nord nodded and accepted the fee, the headmaster grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Excellent! I'm glad we have that settled. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to shoo away the youngsters and see about tuning the harpsichord. Casair, would you show out these gentlemen?"

"Of course, headmaster." _Sure, make me do all the chores_. "Gentlemen?"

The Nord signalled the Redguard to get up and they both fell into step behind her, not that they needed to be guided.

"So yer name's Casair, eh?" the Nord asked her as the Redguard mounted the fly and turned the horses around.

"Yes, it is," Casair replied. The smile she got from the Nord was slightly unnerving.

"Good name, that," he said and climbed onto his seat, taking the reins. "Well, Casair, this is where we part ways for now," he told her with an ear-to-ear grin, all traces of the accent gone. "But trust me when I say this, the Brotherhood shall be seeing more of you very, very shortly." The man then whipped the mares and the carriage took off.

Casair felt her knees collapse under her.

* * *

**Reina**

"Fuck, that's huge! Can I touch it?!"

"Sure, if you want to," Omiq stroked his whiskers, amused. "It's nothing special though."

"I still want to."

"All right, then," the Khajiit said and plucked the giant bow from his wall, holding it almost reverently, before handing it to Reina. "Here."

The girl excitedly took a hold of the bow's grip and turned it around in her hand. "This is a longbow, right? Oddly shaped for a one, though..."

The bow was exceptionally tall, standing well over six feet tall. On top of that, it was asymmetric, with the grip three-fourths of the distance down from the top, instead of being midway like she was used to seeing. The upper and lower curvature also differed; the top having a more noticeable recurve shape as compared to the bottom.

"It's called a yumi," Omiq told her as she tried pulling the string back. "It was the kind of bow used by the Akaviri. The Dragonguard brought samples such as this along with the katana and the yari."

"Yari?"

"Akaviri straight-headed spear."

"Huh. Have you got one of those too?" Reina asked, clearly curious. Omiq's room was like a small museum of weaponry, so she wouldn't be surprised if the enterprising Khajiit had a few stashed away. She looked over the walls again, and felt a sense of awe. Each of the four walls were adorned with weapons of varying sorts; recurved bows, longbows, reflex bows made of horn and sinew, flatbows, steel hunting crossbows, windlass crossbows, several kinds of one-handed sword, longsword, greatswords of various sizes, one-handed axes of different shapes, warhammers, clubs, maces, short spears, circular and square bucklers, round center-grip shields, kite shields, steel rotellas, cavalry heater shields, several varieties of curved swords... there was just too much in the room!

_I wonder how long it would take to clear out this room..._

"Ah, no. I'm afraid I don't have a yari," he replied with a regretful shake of the head, breaking Reina out of her kleptomaniacal thoughts. "I should have bought one when I had the chance."

"Cheer up! You have enough to support a small rebellion, so that's something to be proud of!"

"You're too kind, miss Reina. Admiration is something I'll never reject, nya," Omiq smiled and stroked his whiskers. "So tell me. Do you have any experience with the bow?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. I have been taking lessons for the better part of last year from a friend of mine, though, and she's damn good."

"Mhmm. I was never much of an archer myself, even though Khajiiti archery is quite famous. But there was a time when I had a lot of time in my hands, so a friend of mine taught me the Akiviri style of archery."

"Is it different from how we on Tamriel do it?" Reina asked again. Archery had started to interest her in recent months. Anything she could glean from Omiq here, she could bug Karliah with when she got back.

"Quite," the Khajiit said thoughtfully, occupying a chair. "But are you sure you want to listen to me ramble about Akaviri archery? You don't have other things to do?"

Reina plopped down onto the bed in response, bow in hand. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was just beginning to dip towards the western horizon, what with shorter days and all. Omiq had closed up the restaurant for the day, meaning there were no customers to cater to. Ghorbash was currently in his room, praying. Where Kai was, she did not know.

"Very well, then," Omiq said and retrieved a strange looking apparatus from the end table beside his chair. It looked like a small kettle, with the spout bent upward. There were a couple of purple pipes extending from the back, which were connected to another acorn shaped container which was suspended over a small candle. Omiq opened the kettle and cast a weak frost spell, filling in halfway with powder snow. He then closed it and flipped open the lid of the smaller acorn shaped container and peered inside. Satisfied, he popped the lid back down and held the container in his left hand by the purple tubes, creating a weak flame in his right palm. He then held the kettle over the flame and looked up at Reina. "I hope you don't mind?"

"Smoking skooma in my presence? Pshaw!" she waved it away and laughed. "This is my first time seeing anybody actually take it."

"It's a very... delicate process, as an old friend of mine used to say," Omiq sighed and cancelled the flame spell when he was certain that the snow inside had turned to lukewarm water. He then snapped his fingers together and a small flickering flame appeared at the tip of his index finger, which he used to light the candle. "Anyway, back to the yumi. You've dabbled in archery, you say. What would you say is the most important thing when it comes to archery?"

"Hitting the target, right?"

"Yes and no," the Khajiit replied, tilting his head to either side with every word. "To the Akaviri, archery is more of a spiritual experience than it is for us Tamrielic folk. Here, it's all about whether someone can hit a target from five hundred metres away." Omiq took the sprout into his mouth, closed his eyes and breathed in, eliciting soft gurgling sounds from inside the skooma whatsit. He then leaned back in his chair and purred. "Nothing beats an afternoon smoke, miss Reina. Anybody who tells you otherwise is a liar, nya. But getting back to the yumi again. What was I saying?"

"Archery being a spiritual experience?"

"Hmm. Yes. It is not always about hitting the target. Here's what my friend said to me when he was teaching me," Omiq continued, eyes still closed. "'We all start out trying to hit the target because it's fun. Especially when you're a student. But once you go beyond that level, it becomes more spiritual. You no longer try to hit the target, but you draw the bow in such a way that it allows the arrow to hit the target.'"

Reina unconsciously tightened her grip on the yumi.

"It all comes back to achieving a clear state of mind," the Khajiit continued after another long pull on the mouthpiece. "Hitting the target is merely a by-product of that state of mind. Like, when you are at full draw and are moments away from releasing the arrow, that right there is the moment of utmost fulfilment. Kind of like the moment right before a dew drop falls after expanding to its fullest capacity. At the full draw, at that state of mind, which results in a natural release that allows the arrow to hit the target. One should never force the release."

"Quite philosophical," Reina commented. "But it's a nice philosophy, mainly because I understood what you were saying."

"At least I didn't waste your time completely."

"Of course not. Say, what's the effective range of this bow?"

"Depends on the poundage, but this particular one is effective up to a hundred feet or so," Omiq said after returning to his skooma pipe. "As for how it's shaped, some scholars say that it to enable shooting archery whilst in a kneeling position."

Reina could certainly see how that would be useful in a martial context. "That theory surely holds some credence, if I say so myself."

"Mhmm. But the most curious part is this. The Akaviri have given names to every step involved in the process of archery, from positioning of the feet to releasing the arrow. Do you know the Akaviri name for the step that is the full draw?"

When Reina said that she had not, the Khajiit cracked open his eyes and say up straight, smiling slightly. "The full draw is called kai, miss Reina."

The girl blinked, then grinned sheepishly. "Well, at least now I know what his name means."

"Mhmm. And on that note, I would like to thank you for helping out with the restaurant. Sales have gone up six times after you've joined in."

"Oh please! You're a wonderful cook. I'm sure people come for the quality of food more than they do to stare at my rear."

"Ah, but having a pretty face around doesn't hurt," the Khajiit conceded and went back to his pipe. "Though, not so much for Erikur, eh?"

The redhead huffed and flipped her tresses lightly. "He should not have tried to touch what wasn't his to touch."

"And I'm sure the broken wrist will remind him of that fact for a while yet," Omiq laughed. "Erikur has always been a pig, nya. At least, as far as I can remember."

Reina nodded. Growing up in Riften had taught her to read people better than most, if nothing else. And deal with the more lecherous individuals too.

"Also," the Khajiit began, "thanks to you, I've observed that the atmosphere around here has gotten lighter considerably. Ghorbash doesn't grunt as much and even Kai doesn't grumble like he used to, and those are things I thought I'd never see again."

"Hmm. Kai-pie wasn't the grumpy one back when we were children," the girl said thoughtfully. "Was he like that when you met him?"

"I first met your husband when he was a nineteen year old arbalest aboard an Imperial frigate, chasing down pirates along the northern coast of Skyrim. Even then he was a master procrastinator, but he was different then. Amiable. Didn't have as fiery a temper as he does now, either. War changes people in different ways, you know?"

Reina placed the bow on the bed and leaned forward, supporting her chin on the heel of her palm. "Growing up, Kai was the fearless leader among us kids. I was docile, believe it or not. Him, though," she shook her head, smiling affectionately. "He was always in trouble. Either with Grelod or the shopkeepers and sometimes even with the Guard. Maybe we should sit down and swap our Kai-pie stories sometime. I'll tell you about his early days and you'll tell me about his army days and we can both poke fun at him."

"How can I turn down that offer, nya?" Omiq grinned. "By the way, I hope your little issue got settled?"

"You're awfully nosy, but yes, it was settled," Reina smiled, recalling the little incident on the patio two days ago. "Why?"

She got a shrug in response. "He's been acting differently ever since then."

"Differently how?"

The Khajiit scanned her face, grinned, closed his eyes and took another lungful. "That information shall cost you twenty Septims, nya."

"You're really good at what you do, huh?"

"'Tis a matter of opinion," Omiq said as Kai walked into the room. "Ah, captain, we were just talking about you."

"Of course, because I'm just what your skooma addled brain conjures up when you and this evil git get together," Kai said dryly and leaned against the doorframe.

Reina smirked. "Ah, your praise makes me feel all warm and tingly inside, Kai-pie."

Kai responded to her giggle with a grimace. "You, I wanted to give you something."

"Oh my, a present? You sure have a way with the ladies, dear husband."

Kai glared at Omiq. "Did you let her smoke your shit?"

The Khajiit shrugged good-naturedly. "I thought all this was natural for you two."

Reina exchanged a glance with the Khajiit and shared a small grin as Kai smacked his forehead, muttering obscenities.

The redhead then turned to her husband and said, "But all ribbing aside, what did you have for me?"

Kai, still frowning, pulled out an envelope from where he had slipped it into his belt and handed it to Reina. "Invitations for the ball. Ran into Aldis in the marketplace, said he had been looking for me to deliver this."

Reina had spent the better part of the past month forging an invitation. Oblivion, she had even paid Gulum-Ei for the expensive scented parchment. If she had known that they would get an actual invitation, she would have saved herself the effort. But then another thought entered her mind.

"You never told me you were so popular in the court so as to warrant a personal invitation."

"He's been asked to become a Thane at least three times this year," Omiq said before Kai could even open his mouth.

"Tell me!"

"Have you heard of how Queen Potema was almost resurrected earlier this year?" Reina nodded. "Well, your husband is the one who put a stop to it."

"Oh, now your information isn't worth shit?"

Disregarding Kai's apparent discomfort, Reina looked him up and down approvingly and smacked her lips. "My, I always wanted to marry a knight in shining armour," she said, taking care to keep her tone sultry.

Kai scoffed. "Yes, well, I wasn't alone. If they wanted to make me Thane, they should have offered Omiq and Ghorbash as well. But no, can't have a Khajiit as a Thane. They're thieves. Can't have an Orc as a Thane. They're scary barbarians. You make a law granting all races entry to Hold capitals, but you can't give them equal opportunities and have the _audacity_ to call yourself, 'the Fair'? Fucking bureaucrats make me sick."

"Progress takes time, Captain. You have to let the people warm up to the alienated races first," Omiq said and took a quick smoke from his pipe.

"But still-"

"He's right, you know. You go too far too fast and all you'll end up doing is fall flat on your face," Reina said with a gentle smile.

She saw Kai's eyes lock on her and soften for a split second before he nodded. "Whatever," the man shrugged, "Keep that invitation safe. I'm horrible at remembering where I put things."

So saying, he turned on his heel and shuffled out.

"He cares for his comrades," Omiq said as a means of explanation. "Gets too riled up over them sometimes, nya."

Reina kept her eyes on the spot where Kai had been standing just a few short seconds ago. "Always has been."

* * *

**Ivan**

Storm clouds had gathered over Winterhold, Ivan observed as he walked out of the main gates hurriedly, a slice of buttered bread hanging from his mouth. He carried his staff in his hand and was in the process of feeding his right arm through it's intended gap in the robe.

He should have been on his way to Mzulft a couple of hours ago. It was midday now and he had only his carnal appetite to blame. Granted, it did seem like a good idea after waking up, but then he'd had to rush through a late breakfast, which was still incomplete, and received a light scolding from Mirabelle.

Ah, just another merry day in Winterhold.

"On your way to Mzulft?"

Ivan nodded to Arniel Gane, the reclusive Conjuration scholar of the College as the man fell into step behind him. "Can you spare a moment?"

"Now's not the most opportune time, I'm afraid," Ivan replied and stuffed the remnants of the buttered bread into his mouth.

"Yes, err... yes, of course. You don't have to stop. I'll just, um, walk with you. It's about my research, you see. I'm in need of your assistance."

Why did nobody ever bother repairing the bridge, Ivan thought, ignoring most of his colleague's babble as Gane faithfully followed him. Crossing the bridge was enough to give anybody a permanent fear of heights.

"I'm no tonal architect," the Breton was saying animatedly. "I've only read their writings. Scraps, really. The soul gem by itself isn't enough, you see. It needs to be altered, purified. The dwarves had machines for this sort of thing. I attempted to build my own, based on designs and using parts you helped to provide. My very own Dwarven Convector. It worked, but not fully. And the uhh... The device was destroyed in the process."

"Is this the same soul gem you had Brelyna fetch for you?"

"Err, yes."

"Huh. Can't you build another machine?"

"Ah no. No, I would if I could but," Gane sighed helplessly as Ivan looked at him over his shoulder. "I'm too close now. Can't take the time. But then I heard you were going to Mzulft and thought you could-"

"Yes, hold on a moment," Ivan interrupted him and jogged off towards The Frozen Hearth, where he had spotted Malur Saloth. The Dunmer stood next to a chestnut mare, feeding it a carrot.

"Took you long enough," he snarled at Ivan as the Nord closed the distance between the two. "Took a lot of coaxing to get her out of the stables."

"Much obliged, Malur. As is the College, I assure you."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't blow 'er up, you hear?" the Dunmer steward said as he patted the horse's muzzle. "Why I even agree to do such things..."

"Because if you didn't, it'd mean not helping the College out in its time of need. The College the Jarl thinks you're affiliated to," Ivan said with smirk and placed his hands on his hips. "I wonder whether the Jarl would still keep you employed if your cover was blown. After all, you must keep up appearances. This was easier than stealing Nelacar's staff, no?"

The Dunmer glared darkly at Ivan for a moment before slapping the reins down onto his outstretched palm and stomping off towards the longhouse.

"What was all that about?" Arniel asked Ivan nervously.

Malur slammed the front door of the longhouse loudly.

Ivan whistled. "Business, is all. Speaking of which, I believe you had some for me?"

"What? Oh. Yes. Yes, of course," the conjurer rubbed his palms together. "The designs for my Convector were based on real dwarven machines, and I have solid information that Mzulft has two of them." When Ivan said nothing, he continued. "I suspect it may be, err, due to the nature of the soul gem versus the crystals this was intended for. Destroys the equipment in the process. But two Convectors are all I'll need!"

"Mhmm. What do I have to do?" Ivan asked while strapping his staff to the horse's side.

"All you have to do is put the gem inside the machine and, err, apply a very, very mild heat to it's exterior. Not enough to roast, just lukewarm for about three or four seconds."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"Fine," Ivan relented. "I'll do it."

Arniel beamed at him. "Thank you," he said cordially, and pulled out a curiously shaped soul gem out of his satchel, which Ivan placed inside the horse's saddlebags. "You just saved my research!"

Ivan mounted the horse and smiled down at his colleague. "Still not going to tell me what your research is about?"

"Err-"

"It's alright," Ivan said and looked up at the sky. Strong winds were blowing the clouds towards the western horizon. Either the Pale or Haafingar would get a good dowsing, that was for damn sure. "Anyway, I'm off. See you soon, Arniel. Hopefully."

He then drove his heels into the horse's hindquarters, and eased his steed into a steady gallop towards the direction of Mzulft.

* * *

**Kai**

Kai rubbed his eyes tiredly.

It had been nearly a month since he had received the beast blood. It had also been nearly a month since the last time he had had a full night of good sleep. The first few days were the worst. He could only sleep for about a quarter of an hour at best before he woke up from a nightmare he could not recollect. He would try to sleep, but he would be awoken again and again, waking up every time to sound of a howling wolf and laughter.

It had gotten easier over time, and now, he could sleep up to an hour or so without interruption. Most nights though, he gave up on sleep after the first failed try.

Nights like tonight.

Lack of sleep was getting to him, and it showed. Just yesterday, Ghorbash had commented on the bags under his eyes. Omiq had yet to pass judgement, but Kai suspected the Khajiit had read up on lycanthropy and its effects enough to know about his condition.

A streak of lightning ran across the sky, dividing it into unequal patches of black. It lit up his face and his surroundings. It was weird for a storm to hit during this time of the year, but then again, nature worked in weird, incomprehensible ways.

Kai was sitting on the floor, his back pressed to the cold wall and his bedroll lying at his feet. He rubbed his fingers against his ring subconsciously as the thunderclap reverberated through the air. It was simple band made of steel and silver, adorned by a wolf's head.

Hircine's ring. The artefact Sinding had gone through so much trouble to get his hands on. If put on, it could help Kai with his sleep problem, which would in turn help keep his mental faculties in line. It would also mean submitting to the whims of a Daedic Prince.

The Nord scoffed and pushed the ring into his trouser pocket as another arc of lightning lit up the sky, causing Reina to stop mid-snore and wake up with a start.

"Stupid lightning. Puu," the red-haired girl whined as she propped herself up on an elbow, her hair cascading down one shoulder, as she peered out of the window and then down at Kai. "Why are you awake at this hour?"

Kai felt his lips curl into a smile. "I was doing what every creepy husband does: staring at you while you sleep. Heard somewhere that it's considered romantic."

"Well, I hope you liked whatever you saw?"

"Oh definitely. What's not to like? I always had a thing for red hair."

"Are you saying you like my hair, Kai-pie?"

Kai yawned. "Still afraid of lightning, are ya?"

"Still good at dodging troublesome questions, are you?"

The raven haired man chuckled and leaned the back of his head against the wall. "Touche. And to answer your question, yes."

He could see her smile sleepily as she placed her cheek on her palm and half lay down on her side. "I see. And to answer your question, yes."

Before he could retort, Reina had posed another question. "You have trouble sleeping, don't you?"

"Was it the incessant yawning during daytime, the lethargy or the bags under my eyes that gave me away?"

"It was a bit of all of them, to be honest," she sighed as she lay back down. "Remember when we were kids and lightning used to wake me up?"

"At Honorhall? When you'd ask me to crawl into bed with you just so you could sleep, you coward?"

"So I'm afraid of lightning and I need someone with me if I am to sleep through it," she said with an accusatory tone. "It's not like you're any better. You're afraid of bats."

"Have you seen the blasted things? Damn flying skeevers, I tell ya! Disgusting! They hang upside down and shit outta their mouths!"

"You've seen them do it?"

"Well..."

"That's what I thought."

"Tch."

A comfortable, albeit sleepy, silence fell between the two; for a few short seconds.

"Hey, Kai-pie?"

He looked up at her and found her smiling at him. "Hmm?"

In response, she shifted to her left, lifted the blanket and patted the empty portion of the bed.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"What?" she whined.

"Reina, we were not even ten then. We're twenty-something now."

"Mhmm. So?"

"So it'd be weird."

The redhead smirked devilishly. "You talk like you don't want to."

"My, you just read my mind."

"Oh come on! I wanna shleep!" Reina said, pouting. "Besides, it might help you sleep as well."

Kai laughed. "You don't know if that'll even work."

"True. But I don't know if it'll fail either. It might or might not. You won't know until you try. It all depends on whether you're willing to take a gamble on the unknown."

Kai didn't answer for a while, instead listening to the rain hammering down against the window. "How you speak of something so selfish and make it sound so selfless, I'll never know."

"It's what I do for a living, of course I'm good at it." Reina grinned at him. "Now come on, husband. Don't keep your lovely wife waiting in bed. All by herself."

Kai sighed as he rose to his feet. "Oblivion take you, woman," he said as he swiftly thrust the ring in his pocket into a drawer before approaching the bed. Ignoring Reina's smug grin, he sat down on the corner of the bed and shrugged off his shoes. He then lay down carefully and folded his hands behind his head as Reina threw the furs over him, and a small sigh escaped his lips.

"Not that bed, eh?" Reina asked lightly as she placed her head on his left shoulder and snuggled herself close to him. "Mmm. This brings back memories. You're warmer than I remember."

"It's just the furs," Kai mumbled dismissively as the redhead wrapped an arm around his torso. It took all his will to not stiffen or jump out of bed.

"Whatever you say, Kai-pie," she yawned and Kai felt her breath on the skin of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. "Get some sleep, yeah?"

The next thing Kai heard from Reina was a small snore.

It took him close to a quarter of an hour to get used to this predicament. True, they had done this numerous times when they were children, but that was over a decade ago. As much time they had been spending together over the past month, it didn't make up for the mutual trust they once had.

As he lay there, with only the pounding rain, the thunder and Reina's soft breaths to accompany him, he felt oddly nostalgic. He had loved this girl even then, albeit in a different way. His feelings had changed whilst they were teenagers to a more romantic kind and now, he was surprised that he didn't feel much of anything for this woman. Not in the mushy-gushy lovey-dovey way at least.

His heightened olfactory senses picked up her scent most strongly. It wasn't a surprise, given the proximity, he thought. Her hair smelt of snowberries. Snowberries were her favourite fruit. Purple mountain flowers were her favourite flowers and she loved mead which had the sweet juniper berries as an ingredient.

He knew a lot more about her than he thought possible. A lot of those things, preferences more like, would have changed over the years they had not been in contact. Or had they?

Kai closed his eyes and sighed wearily. Thoughts of this kind never ended well for the thinker. But it was difficult to not think about such things when she was breathing directly below his ear, when her scent was descending to his very core.

If the past had been different, would lying together in bed like they were now have been such a rarity? Could they have been something more than simply partners in crime? Who knew? It was one of the very few things Kai looked back on; the very few "what if's" he allowed himself to think of.

_What if I had told her that I loved her when I was seventeen? What could have been the outcome? Maybe she would have accepted me. Maybe we could have been together. Maybe I ought to stop thinking about dumb things._

Banishing all thoughts from his tired mind, Kai sighed again. He unfolded his arms from under his head and wrapped his left around Reina's sleeping figure, pulling her closer just a bit. It was a one-person bed after all, and it wouldn't be nice she fell over the edge of the bed. His right arm, he placed at his side.

"I never could say no to you. Not even back then," he mumbled sleepily. "Goodnight, Reina."

For the first time in close to a month, Kai slept peacefully for the remainder of the night.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**Conrart**

The Harbringer's gut clenched with nervousness as he stood in the training yard of Jorrvaskr flanked by Vilkas and Aela to his right and Farkas to his left. As Harbringer, it was his duty to initiate members into the Circle, just as he had been inducted himself a little over two years ago. Back then, Kodlak Whitemane had been Harbringer, and a wiser man Conrart had never known. Kodlak always knew what to say to inspire his fellows. Though he was a warrior at heart, his tongue had silvered with age and the wisdom that accompanied it.

Back when Conrart had stood before the Circle after proving his mettle as a Companion, the words seemed to have flowed from his mouth almost effortlessly. As if practiced, Conrart had thought back then. Now that he stood in the place of his predecessor, he found speaking a rather daunting task. Oblivion, talking to a dragon was simpler compared to this.

When Aela cleared her throat, he knew he had been standing there like an idiot and grinned helplessly. "Right. I have to say… stuff."

"Any day now," Vilkas whispered, trying to hide a smirk. Farkas, however, was more supportive. "Don't be afraid. Just say something smart," he told Conrart.

Conrart sighed. _Here goes_. "Shield-siblings of the Circle, it is time again for us to welcome a new soul into our ranks. This man has endured, challenged and triumphed over adversity time and again and undoubtedly has earned his place among us. Aela, you have been accompanied him in his trial. Will you speak for him?"

The red haired huntress bowed her head slightly and stepped forward. "I stand witness for the courage of the soul before us."

_She's good_. "Would you raise your shield in his defence?"

"I would stand at his back, that the world might never overtake us."

_Where does she get these lines?_ "And would you raise your bow in his honour?"

"It stands ready to meet the blood of his foes," Aela responded resolutely.

Conrart nodded. It was almost over. "And would you raise a mug in his name?"

"I would lead the song in triumph as our mead hall revelled in his stories."

"Then the judgement of the Circle is complete," Conrart said with a sigh. "Athis, your heart beats with the courage that resonates among and unites the Companions as a family. As such, it is a damn honour for me to welcome you within the Circle. Oh, and let your heart beat with ours, so the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call." _And things._

"It shall be so," Farkas, Vilkas and Aela echoed moments before a semi-drunk Torvar ran up and hugged Athis, sobbing into his shoulder about good old times when they were both whelps, much to the Dunmer's chagrin.

Conrart clapped the elf on his other shoulder and told him to head inside the hall and have himself a drink before walking off to the bench by the archery targets. A lone man sat by himself on the bench, nursing a bottle of cold ale. The elder man nodded at Conrart who nodded back before sitting beside him.

"How do you think that went?" the blonde warrior asked the man.

"Kodlak could've managed it better, whelp. But not bad. Not bad at all."

Conrart sighed. "I really wish you'd stop calling me whelp, Skjor."

The balding Nord chuckled. "You were a whelp, and always will be a whelp to me, so you'd best warm up to it, whelp."

"...Yes, I think we've established that."

The former Circle member snorted and took a mighty gulp from his bottle. Conrart smiled to himself. "You look well, Skjor."

"You can thank Aela for that. Damn woman won't stop babying me," Skjor said with a frown, though his tone was tinged with affection. "I tell her I'm fine, but she insists on special treatment."

"And I'm sure you enjoy it, you old lecher," Conrart grinned and received a good natured slap on the back from his old mentor. "How's the leg?"

"Stings when it's cold," Skjor replied with a shrug. "Which is always in this backwater of Oblivion. But enough about me. I hear you'll be going to the ball in Solitude. Is that right?"

"Yeah. I leave soon, in fact. I just wanted to get the Circle induction done with," the blonde haired warrior sighed. "Carriage leaves in another half hour, I'd say."

"You're not going to be taking your spear, I hope? I'd be awkward to win over damsels with a spear in hand. I know, I've tried."

Conrart laughed at that. "No, no. I'll just take the sword Eorlund made me."

Skjor nodded at that. "You'd best be on your way, then, whelp. The damn thing's tomorrow evening. You leave now and you won't reach Solitude before dawn tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," the Dragonborn smirked and rose to his feet. "You know, Skjor, I sometimes think you would have the better choice as Harbringer."

"Only sometimes?" the veteran grinned. "Boy, I trusted Kodlak with my life, and Kodlak trusted you enough to make you lead the pack. Whatever he decided, I'm fine with." Then with a shrug, he added, "Besides, somebody has to stay in court as Thane."

Conrart frowned at that. When the Silver Hand had attacked Jorvasskr three years ago, the knowledge of the Circle being lycanthropes went from being secret to public. It caused a lot of hysteria but the people reasoned that since the Companions had done nothing horrendous to them and that they never would. Later that year, when the new Harbringer was declared Dragonborn , everybody put their faith in the Companions again. People came to join from far-flung areas of the province, more so after Alduin was slain.

All that changed when the Stormcloaks attacked.

Conrart remembered it well. Ulfric had fielded his army outside Whiterun, trebuchets flinging projectile after projectile at Whiterun's walls. Everybody believed that the Stormcloak army would starve outside the city walls. However, a group of warriors, led by Galmar Stone-Fist himself, used the secret exit out of the Undeforge as an entry point and thus were able to bypass most guards and soldiers. Emerging from the Underforge, they fought their way to Dragonsreach and Jarl Balgruuf had to surrender.

This resulted in a fresh batch of hysteria of how the Companions had sided with the Stormcloaks and thus did not take part in the battle. The fact that the Companions had indeed sat out the battle did not help matters. Nobody wanted to understand that they had a strict policy forbidding them to partake in petty political wars.

Imperial reaction was swift and they drove the Stormcloaks from Whiterun in under two weeks. After that, Tulius had gone crazy and launched a full-on assault, determined to ride this wave to victory. And he did. In 4E 202, the Imperial Legion had successfully captured Windhelm.

However, it was only the word of the Dragonborn's word, his word, that kept the people of Whiterun from rioting. Their outrage at the Companions was palpable. A re-instated Balgruuf also seemed less inclined to trust the band of mercenaries, and for a while, it seemed as if they would be exiled. The fact that the Gray-Mane family also didn't lift a hand whilst being involved with the Companions and the Stormcloaks raised many an eyebrow.

But then the Jarl came up with a solution. He would appoint one member of the Companion as Thane, and they would have to fill the court in on every activity of the Companions. Vignar was refused then and there, seeing as how he had usurped Balgruuf's throne during the two weeks of Stormcloak occupation. It was then that Skjor stepped up and took that role for himself. The Nord had lost his left leg to the Silver Hand. The bastards had sawn off his left leg right under his calf muscle. He had bled half to death by the time Conrart and Aela had gotten to him. Conrart had never been more thankful for taking those lessons on Restoration magick from Danica.

Aela had carried Skjor to Whiterun in wolf form, but had changed back before approaching the gates. By the time Conrart made it to Whiterun, Danica had amputated the warrior's leg. He would be forever unable to fight.

That had settled things. Now, as Conrart looked down at Thane Skjor, he felt guilt bubble up in his chest again. _If only I'd been faster..._

"Don't even think about it," Skjor said without even looking up from his bottle. "I thought you had a carriage to run to?"

"Yeah," Conrart muttered and turned on his heel. "Hold the fort till I get back, Skjor."

All he received in response was a grunt.

* * *

**Firo**

Mortal sentiments escaped him completely. Why they assigned such things to days, he would never know. It was petty and stupid. A waste of time, money and effort, if anything. All of the festoons, the paper lanterns, the sweetroll stands and the liquor stands... they had been erected by the people over the past few weeks and would only serve them for two days, after which they would be dismantled. What purpose did that serve? It wasn't long-term. With mortals, nothing was long-term. All they did was live the moment, without a worry in the worry in the world for the future or how their actions today would shape their futures a few decades later.

Truly, mortals were incomprehensible.

Leaning out of the balcony of his second floor room at the Winking Skeever, the Nordic vampire observed the festive preparations come to a head. Tomorrow was the fated day, the Old Life festival. The day his father wanted to turn the High Queen of Skyrim.

Ambitious as that sounded, Firo knew how to smell a trap when he encountered one, and this assignment had trap written all over it. It was subtle, of course. Firo had no doubt that his father knew, or at least suspected, that he had sabotaged almost all of the previous assignments he had been a part of. In which case, this was make or break time: either turn the High Queen in the face of overwhelming odds or reveal himself as a traitor by not doing so.

Lord Harkon had suggested he travel with a few other vampires, but he had declined, stating that it would be far easier to sneak in by his lonesome than with a war-party. His father had countered by playing the concern card; didn't want to risk his only remaining child and so he had sent Fura Bloodmouth with him. Between the two of them, Harkon argued, they could easily take on a small contingent of the Legion if it came to that.

Firo had to agree with that. That also meant that if he chose to forfeit and turn traitor before the mission, Fura would be there to breathe down his neck.

_Well played, father._

In case they _were_ hopelessly outnumbered, Fura and he could summon half a dozen hounds each. That ought to be more than enough of a distraction for them to retreat.

"What're you thinking about, Lord Firo?"

"Lord... is my father's title, Fura. It suits him best," Firo replied without turning back. "Calling me by my first name should suffice."

"As you wish," Fura drawled as she came to join him at the balcony. "Nervous?"

"Wary. A lot of things could go wrong tomorrow."

"Indeed. Which is why Lord Harkon wishes for us to utilise some thralls."

Firo did not say a word. Fura didn't give him the chance either. "Think. We would not have to use our blood brethren. Thralls are replaceable," she said earnestly, building her case. "I could simply visit a nearby bandit camp, turn them, and have them hide out in the city until the time is ripe."

"That also gives you a decent excuse to feed."

It wasn't posed as a question, and that caused the female vampire's lips to curl upwards in a smirk, revealing doughy-white teeth.

"Go then," Firo said with a wave of his hand. "We could use some numbers to our advantage. Better than using other vampires, anyway."

He watched Fura transform into a bat and fly noiselessly westward. She would get the job done. Fura Bloodmouth would do anything to further the needs and ambitions of Lord Harkon.

Blind loyalty was a very dangerous thing. It would have to be taken care of some way.

* * *

**Ivan**

Everything had gone south when Ivan had found Gavros Plinius's dying body outside Mzulft. _Find Paratus in the Oculory. _Those had been the man's last words.

Granted, Ivan had seen dead people before, but to witness the death of someone with whom he had exchanged words only three days ago... he had a hard time wrapping his mind around that one. As he walked the halls of the ancient Dwemer ruin, Ivan let his thoughts wander.

_What would I have done if it were Mira instead? Or Savos? Or anybody else from the College? How the fuck am I supposed to react to that? This is madness, absolute madness. If I die here, what will that do to Mira? How would she even know? How Kai and father did this on a regular basis I'll never know. You two are made of stronger stuff than I._

He had encountered the odd Falmer and Dwarven spider or sphere along the way, but that was to be expected. Ivan had also found two Dwarven convectors; one in what he assumed was a storage room outside the ruin proper, and one inside the ruin itself. Gane owed him one.

As he neared what he believed was the Oculory, Ivan fished out the focusing crystal from his satchel. It was a curious piece of engineering, and had taken quite a bit of gold to make Enthir part with it. Something about it being the only one off its kind in Skyrim after being smuggled in from Cyrodiil.

What it did, Ivan knew not, but he was certainly going to find out. _At least I hope so._

Striding over to the double doors, Ivan tried to open them, but found them locked. He pounded on the Dwemer metal with his fists and aimed kicks at it, but to no avail.

The silver-haired mage put the crystal back and placed his ear against the cool metal, hoping to hear _something_ resembling life on the other side. To his intense relief and satisfaction, he heard distant, but distinct, shuffling of feet and muttered words.

His relief evaporated , however, when he heard strangled cries and the all too familiar clicking noises from behind him.

_Aw Oblivion._

Three Falmer, one of them a shaman, came traipsing towards him, no doubt attracted by the sounds of his desperate door banging. The shaman was the most immediate threat, Ivan realised, right hand sparkling with frost magicka. _But the other two will flank me and that'll be curtains for old Ivan Asarsen. No, the shaman will have to wait._

Having decided his course of action, Ivan fired an ice spike at the shaman, who reflexively summoned a rather large ward, absorbing most, if not all, of the impact. But it delayed the thing, and that was what Ivan was aiming for.

The remaining two, wielding curved, bound swords, closed in on him from either side. The one on the left stepped on a rune and was promptly frozen to the floor while the other received a face full of lightning from Ivan's outstretched staff. Ivan followed this up by casting a spell on the fry-faced Falmer, making it leap onto its trapped former-ally and hacking it to bits.

Ivan didn't have any respite as he was forced to cast a ward of his own in order to deflect a fireball from the Falmer shaman. _A battle of the mages._

Ivan shot an ice spear out of his palm in retaliation, which the Falmer avoided by a simple sidestep. The Nord then pointed his index finger at the Falmer's head and clicked his middle finger and thumb together, placing a frost rune on the shaman's face and freezing its head completely. As the creature fell, its frozen head splintered and broke into pieces upon impacting the hard stone floor.

The frenzied Falmer, after having achieved its goal of dismembering the other one, promptly received an ice spike through the face.

Sighing, Ivan took a moment to survey his handiwork. _Messy._

"You aren't Gavros. Who are you?"

So taken was he in his little battle that Ivan had not even heard the door being opened behind him. Turning on his heels swiftly, Ivan came face to face with an Imperial man in official Synod robes, his expression that of annoyance mixed with astonishment and anxiety.

"Paratus Decimius, I assume?" Ivan ventured a guess and received a nod. "My name is Ivan Asarsen. I'm the Assistant Master Wizard at the College of Winterhold."

"And what, pray, are you doing here, mage of Winterhold?"

Ivan noticed how Paratus could not take the worried edge out of his voice.

"I'm here to help."

"Indeed? And what of Gavros? My colleague? Have you seen him?"

"Yes, he was at the College asking for a focusing crystal a few days ago." Paratus sighed in relief. "Unfortunately, I found him dead by the entrance of Mzulft. His dying words were, 'Find Paratus in the Oculory.'"

The Imperial's relieved sigh turned into one of sadness. "Great. Just the kind of news I was hoping for. It was the Falmer wasn't it? Damnation! He was supposed to return with a crystal... without him, all our efforts have been wasted!" Then his brows furrowed. "Wait. How do I know for sure you're a College mage? How do I know that you aren't masquerading as one and are actually the one to murder Gavros? How do I know you won't kill me and steal my research?"

In response, Ivan merely pulled out the focusing crystal from his satchel and held it before Paratus. "I wouldn't have brought this then, now would I?"

If he hadn't seen it, Ivan would not have believed that a face was capable of displaying so many emotions in such a short span of time. Paratus's expression went from fear and travelled through scorn, scepticism, disbelief, scrutiny, excitement and then settled on relief, all before Ivan could count to five.

"You have my intense gratitude," the scholar said and stood aside, finally allowing Ivan to enter the Oculory. "I was almost beginning to think Gavros had gone and gotten himself killed just to spite me!"

"So what does this do, exactly?"

"It was a brilliant idea, actually. Mostly mine. Though Gavros took the credit for it," Paratus said as he closed the door and barricaded it with a barrel. "Offical Synod business though. Can't talk about it."

_And this is why I despise your organisation. _"Your colleague mentioned that you already had one. Why do you need another?"

A shrug. "It didn't work the first time. I tried to tell Gavros, but he wouldn't listen. 'No, it won't be too cold' he said. Well, I was right wasn't I? Focused completely wrong by the time we got here. Cold had warped it!"Paratus pinched the bridge of his nose in undisguised frustration. "Gavros said he would ask your College for assistance. Left the rest of us here to the damnable Falmer."

"Well, you have it now," Ivan said, lost out of context.

"Ha! So I do!" the Imperial chuckled. "But with the Falmer skulking around, I can't do this on my own. You'll have to help me."

_Oh-kay? _"Help you with what exactly?"

"Come, I'll explain on the way," Paratus said and cast a Candlelight spell. With the ball of soft light hanging overhead, illuminating the ill-lit passageway, the Imperial strode onwards, Ivan in tow. "Know this, though. Whatever Gavros may have said at your College, this was my idea! I was the one who first thought of using this... this Oculory."

"Is that what the Dwarves called this place?"

"Hmm? Oh I doubt that. They had some unpronounceable name for this place, I'm sure. From our research, it seems that they were intent on discerning the nature of the divine."

"But the Dwarves were staunch believers in science, not religion," Ivan challenged. "They looked down upon on all the other races who worshipped the Gods."

"Yes, indeed. And the Numidium was their answer. Through science and engineering, they created their Brass God to challenge the Divines. More to spite the other races, actually." Paratus actually seemed pleased to be able to discuss such things with a fellow scholar.

"So are you going to tell me next that they built their Numidium _here_?"

The Synod scholar laughed and cancelled his spell, making the bobbing ball of light disappear. They had reached the end of the dark passage and taken a left, up a winding ramp which surrounded a giant sphere of sorts. It was sufficiently well lit, this place, though Ivan could not yet see the source of it all. Ivan looked down once and made a note to not fall off. "Far from it," Paratus said. "You'll see when we reach... well. You'll see."

And so Ivan kept his peace. When he reached the end of the winding platform, he was flabbergasted. _What in the name of-_

"Impressive, isn't it?" Paratus smiled almost lovingly.

Impressive was an understatement, Ivan thought. Before them lay a giant, domed sphere which acted as the floor. It was bordered by Dwarven glass and reminded Ivan of a buckler. _A very large fucking buckler_. At the centre was an arch consisting of two curved Dwarven metal beams holding a circular armature of sorts, with three circular lenses attached to it. It wasn't a closed circle, however. There was room for something to be placed at the bottom, thereby completing the circle.

Looking up, Ivan saw the roof was domed as well. A lens sat dead centre, focusing a beam of light onto the stationary armature. There were three more giant lenses on the dome, each at a different angle to the armature. It was a twisted, Dwarven puzzle.

"I'm guessing we put the crystal in the armature and complete the circle?"

"Yes," Paratus replied. "Give it here."

And Ivan did. He watched as the Imperial strode over to the armature and clipped the crystal in place. No sooner had he done so that the armature rotated so that the crystal was facing the ceiling, reflecting the beam of light into the other lenses and onto the horizontal, circular beams on the domed ceiling.

"Amazing," Ivan murmured.

"The machinery was designed to collect starlight and then... split it. Like that," Paratus said as he came over to Ivan. "It was my idea to replace one of the key elements with our focusing crystal. Months of enchantments went into it."

"Didn't you make spares?"

"We made three in total, yes."

_Oh Enthir you beautiful bastard._

"Have you heard of the Orrery in the Arcane University? Its design was based off this Oculory in Mzulft. Took months of work to get this to work. And now, it'll all come to fruition."

"What do we do now?" Ivan asked.

"We hit the armillary with flame and frost spells. The expansion and contraction of the focusing crystal will change the angle of reflection," the Synod scholar explained. "If we can hit those bigger lenses with the reflected light... well, we'll see when it happens."

"You Synod sure like to keep your secrets, yeah?" Ivan said, somewhat miffed, and rolled up his sleeves.

"Make sure you only use novice spells. Any higher level spells will move the crystal differently. Then we'll be in a fix."

"Yeah, yeah."

How long it took, Ivan didn't know, but it did take a while. They had to experiment with a plethora of combinations of flame and frost spells, and in the end, it paid off. Three separate jets of light collided with the reflecting mirrors on the dome wall and then hit a stone wall behind the two mages, projecting an image northern Tamriel; High Rock, Hammerfell, Skyrim, Cyrodiil and Morrowind.

_So this thing is a projector._

"That's strange... the results are not at all what they were supposed to be..." Paratus said, perplexed.

"And what were they supposed to be?"

Pausing before the image, the Imperial tapped his chin with his index finger. "The projection should be lit up like the night sky. Something is creating an incredible amount of interference..."

_Okay..._

"Something in Winterhold, it looks like..."

Ivan gulped. It was true. On the image, there were two dots on the map of Skyrim. One of them was unmistakably placed over Winterhold. _The Eye of Magnus..._

"So what're you playing at?" Paratus turned upon Ivan, bringing forth all his frustration and suspicion. "What have you done? Is this an attempt to stall my work?! Did you know what were working on? Are you here to make sure that your plan worked, that our efforts have been for nothing?"

So many accusations. "You'd best calm down, Paratus."

"You look here," the Imperial practically snarled. "You and your College have ruined years of our work, I've lost friends and colleagues here to the Falmer and you want me to calm down?! Now you damn well better explain yourself or so help me-"

"Shush," Ivan answered heatedly. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I brought you a damn crystal. Otherwise you'd still be stuck down there, fending off wave after wave of Falmer. Besides, if I wanted to disrupt your work, I would have killed you the second I saw you and nobody would have been the wiser."

From the look on his face, Ivan realised that Paratus had yet to consider that one. "But it must be something you're doing. There's no other explanation..." he muttered quietly and looked at the map. Then his eyes snapped back to Ivan. "You have something at your College, don't you? Something of immense power? Beyond anything I'd ever anticipated. What is it?"

Ivan decided to bite. "We might have something, yes."

"Well?"

"Official College business. Can't talk about it."

Ivan took great pleasure in watching Paratus fume. Then he decided to elaborate. "I've come here searching for the whereabouts of the Staff of Magnus. I've helped you do all this. Now I believe you owe me something."

Paratus laughed bitterly at that, but provided some answers nonetheless. "I can't give you all the details. That would mean giving away a lot of knowledge the Synod have learned over the years," he said dismissively. "What's important is that all this work was designed to reveal to us sources of great magical power."

"For the safeguarding of the Empire, no doubt," Ivan returned mockingly, unable to help himself.

"Yes," Paratus said through clenched teeth. "And here, only two places were revealed to us. One is your College."

"And the other?"

"Looks like Labyrinthian."

Ivan felt a cold shiver run down his spine. "So the Staff is at Labyrinthian, yes?"

"Probably. I mean yes. Certainly it is."

That was all Ivan needed to hear. Without a word, he turned and walked down the ramp, Paratus shouting behind him. "But that doesn't matter now! Do you know why? Because I know you're keeping something much more powerful at your College! The Council will hear of this! There will an investigation! I'll see you all burn! So go trudging to Labyrinthian for your Staff! Haha! The Council-"

"You've been down here too long. You've gone crazy," Ivan suggested off-handedly as he reached the bottom.

"Am I? AM I? Oh I've learnt more than I could've ever hoped for! Your trickery won't work on me! Oh no! The Council will be informed of this! They'll get to the bottom of what you've been up to!"

"Have fun with your Falmer friends."

"This isn't over!"

Ivan breathed deeply upon exiting the Oculory. Now he would go back to the College and recuperate. And then, he gulped, Labyrinthian awaited.

* * *

**Kai**

"Remind me. How did I let you talk me into this again?"

He heard his _wife _chuckle at that. "That's for me to know and you to find out, husband dear."

Kai merely sighed. He knew when a battle was lost.

Sleep had been kind to him for some reason the previous night. There had been no nightmares, no voices in his head. Just the embrace of sweet Oblivion in the form of Reina. Kai had woken up to find the woman practically sleeping on top of him, pillowing his chest. Not knowing what to do in that situation, Kai had just lay there, letting her sleep and trying to decipher whatever she mumbled in her sleep while avoiding being tickled by stray strands of scarlet hair. He had caught himself thinking that it was a cute habit of hers, how she mumbled in her sleep. Even back in Honorhall, when she would demand they sleep together, Kai had made note of this singular habit. It was something that defined Reina Coldridge as a sleeper. Overall, he had found it a rather pleasant experience, although he would rather die than confess to it.

_You shan't have the pleasure, you red haired harlot._

Now that she had woken up though, the woman still refused to budge, stating that he was too good a pillow to sacrifice. Any other day, Kai would have pushed her off of him and onto the floor, but he was in a good mood. Why that was, he did not want to think about.

"You aren't hungry?" he tried. "Breakfast should be served soon."

"Oh, hungry I am," Reina purred seductively and placing her palms on his chest, lifted herself to smirk down at his face. "But not for food, no."

_What._

"Come to think of it, we never did consummate our marriage, Kai-pie."

Kai found it a very difficult decision to choose between being embarrassed and flustered. "Wha-"

"Now don't tell me you don't want me," the redhead pressed on, placing her forehead against his so that her hair curtained them. Kai felt her straddle him, her hands trailing down to his flanks. Usually, he would mentally recite The Lusty Argonian Maid and that would quell his raging emotions to a degree, but it would be grossly counterproductive in this scenario.

_Oh this is not going to end well._

Her eyes twinkled in amusement. "Your body doesn't lie, I see."

Kai had cursed his manhood before, but this time, he just didn't have the appropriate words. "You evil whore," he said, voice traitorously hoarse.

"I am the bathtub of desire and I see you are filthy for me," Reina nigh whispered, her breath ghosting over his lips. "You'd better get naked and let me surround you."

Kai bit his lip. He did not like not being in control of his senses. Or his body for that matter. Try as he might, he found he could not lift his hands to push her away. _Or maybe I just don't want to._

"Fuck you."

"Oh, you know you want to," the woman breathed and brushed the tip of her nose lightly along his. "But I think that's enough teasing for one morning."

And with that, her weight was completely gone, leaving Kai awash in feelings and thoughts he was not ready to entertain. Covering his face with his hands, he groaned.

"Could it be that you're a virgin?" Reina asked him from where she sat on the foot of the bed, legs folded in front of her. Kai saw that she was tying her hair into a ponytail, looking at him with a curiously amused expression. He decided right then and there that he liked ponytails.

"None of your fucking business," he deadpanned as he sat up, running a hand tiredly through his raven locks.

"I'll take that as an emphatic and resounding _yes_," Reina laughed and edged herself off the bed. "I'm going to take a bath. Want to come?"

"Bugger off."

"Mhmm. Oh and when I get back, I'm going to give you a haircut. Your hair is a mess and they'd kick us out of the ball if you went like that. Ta!"

Before Kai could even complain, she was out of the door, on her way to the bathroom downstairs. The Nord sat there awhile, thinking about what had just transpired. Maybe it had been a dream. He touched his nose where Reina's had met his. _Some dream._

Sighing, Kai rose to his feet. He stretched his dormant muscles, all the while thinking about how his body had reacted to Reina. _Why, though? _He had always kept his body disciplined, making it do what _he_ wanted it to. And yet, he had experienced butterflies in his stomach like he was some sort of adolescent, swooning over a pretty girl. Or maybe it was just hunger? It was probably just hunger.

Blaming the beast blood for his somersaulting stomach, the Nord shuffled down the stairs and into the restaurant proper.

It was too early to open still; Omiq only served lunch and dinner. He found the Khajiit seated in a chair, legs crossed over the table, a plate of horker loaves on said table. He had a book in one hand and a cooked horker loaf in the other.

"Morning."

"And a good morning to you as well, Captain," Omiq returned when Kai sat down across him. "You smell... different, nya."

"Different how?"

"There's a sweet scent of snowberries emanating from you," the Khajiit said slyly, bringing his feet down so that he could lean towards Kai.

"Is that right?" he replied with faux nonchalance, reaching out to take a horker loaf himself from the plate. In truth, he could very well smell Reina's essence on his person. That did not warrant him liking it. Well, not a lot. He liked it a bit, though.

_I really need a warm bath to clear my head. Or a vacation._

"Oh yes. Can we expect some news after a few months, hmm?"

Kai threw his food at the Khajiit's face. "Oblivion take you all," he muttered. When the Khajiit concluded his bout of chuckling, he asked, "Where's the Orc?"

"The Orc is currently downstairs, burning firewood and heating up the bath."

"Huh. What're you reading?"

"Oh this?" Omiq grinned and placed the book on the table. "This is an erotic novel I borrowed from your wife."

_Reina's? _"Can I see?"

The Khajiit slid the book across the table towards him. "What's hers is yours anyway, nya."

"Smatarse," Kai said dryly and turned the book towards him. "Renata looked at the chimneysweep," he read aloud, completely monotone. "Her mother, a priestess of Dibella, wouldn't be home for hours. Her loins were burning. She threw caution to the wind and reached out and grabbed his – woah!" Kai chuckled and looked up at Omiq. "This is nice."

"You should wait till chapter seven with the butcher's wife."

"Is it good?"

A quick nod. "Oh, it's _good_."

"What's good?" Reina asked as she entered the restaurant, clothed in her favourite red bodice and a long, brown skirt. She had a towel draped across her shoulders which she was using to dry her hair. "Oh, Kai-pie! Haircut! Come, come!"

Kai looked down at the book intently. "What's the rush, Renata? Your priest mommy won't be home for hours."

The girl stopped dead in her tracks. "What're you... you read my book."

"Just started. Good stuff," Kai said. "Was the bath to your liking?"

"Mhmm. Remind me to thank Ghorbash though. Poor man spent his time throwing wood into the fire just so I could have a warm bath."

"Why? Your burning loins weren't enough to warm the water?"

Omiq burst out laughing. Reina reached out and pinched Kai's cheek. "Cheeky," she smiled and gave his cheek a firm tug. "It'll take pruning shears to trim through your mop, much less with a pair of scissors. It'll take time, so come on."

"Bossy bitch," Kai said whilst rubbing his cheek as he rose to his feet to follow his wife. Then he turned to Omiq. "Not a word from you."

The Khajiit closed his mouth and took to snickering instead.

To his credit, Kai managed to keep his emotions on an even keel while replaying the events of the bedroom in his mind. Flirting was like air for Reina, that much he knew and was willing to accept.

_But wasn't all that just a bit... too much? Or maybe I'm just overthinking and haven't stopped overthinking since last night. Lying down with her has fucked up my head. Yeah. That's probably it. Once she's gone and the wedding is annulled, I shan't be thinking of her. Just like I used to not think of her. Yeah. That's it. This is just a phase, and it'll pass after the ball is over and done with._

"Septim for your thoughts?"

Kai grunted. "The Oblivion are we doing in the patio?"

Reina grinned and pulled up a chair from the nearby table, setting it so that the occupant faced the College of Winterhold. "So that you can enjoy the view while I work my arse off."

"I'm not paying you, just so you know. You volunteered."

"Since when are you a miser?"

"I don't even remember," Kai responded with a sigh as he sat down. Craning his neck, he saw Reina pour water from a jug into a copper basin. "Have you ever done this before?"

Her posture stiffened ever so slightly. Kai heard her draw a quick breath. "Yes. I used to do this for Brynjolf. And Mercer."

_Ah._ "I see," Kai responded and cast his gaze to the horizon, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Every time the topic of Mercer Frey was broached, he found himself at a loss of what to say. Reina had told him how he had betrayed the Guild and how Brynjolf, a Dunmer named Karliah and herself had hunted him down and ended him.

_Can't even imagine... being betrayed by your lover and then having to hunt them down._

He had to stop his wandering thoughts when moist fingers were threaded through his locks, causing Kai to gasp despite himself.

"Like that, do you?" Reina's smug voice came from behind him. "I guess I haven't lost my touch completely, then."

Kai sighed and leaned back against the chair, closing his eyes. Indeed, having his scalp massaged was a rare occurrence. But having it done so dextrously by experienced hands just made the experience that much more pleasurable.

"So this all ends after tomorrow, right?"

"Right. And you can have your long sought after peace finally! Haha!"

Kai closed his eyes and hummed in agreement as Reina finished dousing his hair and fetched the scissors. He refused to acknowledge the part of him that didn't want it to end.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

**Ivan**

"Labyrinthian?" Savos Aren asked, snapping shut the tome he had been studying.

"Labyrinthian," Ivan answered with a curt nod.

Ivan knew well the dangers Labyrinthian posed to any adventurer foolish or confident enough to set foot there. Even the Khajjit caravans took a detour whenever Labyrinthian was involved.

"I see, I see," the old Dunmer said, stroking his beard wearily, leaning back in his chair. "As Arch-Mage, it is my duty to forbid you from undertaking such a dangerous assignment."

"I know full well the danger-"

Ivan stopped when Aren raised his hand. "I know you know, Ivan. I just want you to consider bringing somebody along with you. You shan't survive alone."

"Yes, I realise that," the Nord said after a while. "I'll bring along Onmund, Brelyna and J'zargo. They're all talented, and I think they're itching to stretch their magickal boundaries. This should be a good enough opportunity for them."

The elven mage sat quietly for a long moment, patting his knee as he did so. His eyes were unfocused, as if he were recalling some memory of days long gone past.

"Ivan, take a seat. I wish to tell you something."

_Okaaay_.

Pulling up a chair, Ivan sat across from the Arch-Mage and waited for whatever it was that he had to say. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait very long.

"This story is very old, Ivan. Very, _very_ old. None now live who remember it, save for myself," Aren spoke slowly and closed his eyes, as if to better visualise the memories. "Long ago, I was but a mere apprentice in this very institution. Then, I was young and inexperienced, not knowledgeable in the many dangers magick had to offer. I was proud, confident and dare I say even a little arrogant in my ability. But I had friends among the other apprentices. We all wanted to excel and weren't very satisfied with how the College seemed to offer mostly theoretical knowledge. No, we wanted to explore. We wanted to experience firsthand and see for ourselves the many wonders of magick."

The old elf's lips quirked into a serene smile. "There were five others besides myself: Atmah, Girduin, Takes-In-Light, Hafnar Ice-Fist, and Elvali Veren. Atmah was a Redguard sorceress. She was extremely talented. No surprise that she was the favourite pupil of the then Arch-Mage. Girduin was a Bosmer, and he liked to drink and he liked to talk. He was my best friend. Takes-In-Light was an Argonian, but she was also easily spooked. Couldn't stand jump scares. We all made fun of her. Hafnar was a Nord, and easily the most outspoken of our little group. He was something of a racist and we butted heads often. But he had a sense of humour. And a kind heart. And finally, there was Elvali. Elvali was lovely and kind and very pretty. We were the only two Dunmer in to gain entry that year, and became fast friends. And then more than that." He sighed. "My friends."

"At my insistence, the six of us ventured off to Labyrinthian. It was totally off-limits for us, you see. And we were very curious. We were sure we'd find something of value; enchanted weapons, gems, powerful items. Given the history of the place, it wasn't a very far-fetched notion. We wanted to show the College authority that practical knowledge was far superior to their theory.

"Anyway, things went awry. Forgive me if I don't go into details since the memories are still painful to me. We started to lose members one by one. There were many horrors awaiting us in that accursed place, and by the time we reached the final chamber, only three of us remained; myself, Hafnar and Atmah. However, what awaited us there was far more diabolical than we could have ever anticipated."

Ivan swallowed. "What was it?"

"A Dragon Priest."

Silence.

"You mean... alive?"

"No, Ivan. Undead. We were no match for its strength. It was too much," Aren shook his head bitterly. "So I had Hafnar and Atmah cast a barrier spell on the creature. Then... then I enthralled them, so that the evil might never escape."

Ivan had no idea what to say to that.

"I had no choice, don't you _see_? I had to leave them behind, had to sacrifice them so I could make it out alive. If we'd all died there, if we'd loosed the thing on the world, who knows what might have happened? That's how I consoled myself for years, after I'd sealed this place shut and vowed never to let anyone open it." After a pause: "Now you plan to delve in there. I hope for all our sakes that you put it to rest. But it can't undo my mistakes. They can never be undone..."

Ivan reached out and paced his hand on the now crying elf's shoulder reassuringly. "You had to do what you had to do, what you thought was right," he said in consolation even as Aren wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I can't say I condone the act, but I see the sense in it."

Savos Aren composed himself with a great sigh and placed his hand atop Ivan's.

"Thank you for your kind words," he said with a gentle smile. "I have faith in you, Ivan. Just make sure that you and the others come back without fatal injuries. I'll tell Mirabelle. Now go, get ready. Meanwhile, I'll rest my frazzled nerves."

Ivan nodded and got to his feet. He'd have to kick three students out of bed, get a disgruntled Malur Seloth to give him a couple of horses for another expedition, head to Labyrinthian and face Divines knew what lurked in the shadows, fight and hopefully defeat an undead Dragon Priest, retrieve what was arguably the most powerful magickal artefact in the history of Tamriel and come back and make hot love to Mirabelle.

_Fun_.

* * *

**Kai**

The dreaded evening was finally upon him. Finicky ladies and lascivious old codgers all under the same roof with an unlimited supply of alcohol. The consequences would be dire and exceptionally threatening for the last dregs of sanity he had felt.

Kai scowled.

Not only had he been forced to bathe, Reina made sure he smelt of soap when he came out. He had to placate. How could he not? The redhead had threatened to scrub him with soap like dirty laundry if he didn't do it himself. _Honestly..._

The Nord muttered darkly as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on the damned too-snug boots. Though he had tucked the black undershirt into the leggings, he had followed through with his resolve to do nothing of the sort with the tunic. It was all so... _stuffy..._

He had always been one for comfortable clothing. Even in the Legion, when not fighting or scouting, he mainly stuck to a tunic and breeches. On Orchestra assignments he mainly pulled on the white lamellar armour. Plate armour had never been his thing.

After forcing the boots up his legs, Kai sighed and ran his palms along his now stubble-free face. Shaving was another atrocity Reina had forced upon him. It was then that he had demanded a thousand Septims for services rendered. It was a small victory that she had grudgingly accepted.

_A victory is a bloody victory... no matter how small._

"Just because you're finished dressing, don't turn around, yeah?"

Kai's left eye twitched. Reina had been dressing herself behind him. He had never been in the same room with a semi-nude woman before, and though he was aware of the uniquely female body parts, the thought had never crossed his mind to turn around and take a look for himself.

Now that the thought had rooted itself in his mind, it was a hard temptation to resist. "Bah," he spluttered, the blood rushing to his face for some asinine reason, "you have nothing I'd want to look at."

"Awww, you hurt my feelings, _daaahling~!_"

Sometimes, he just wanted to strangle the woman. Quite often, really.

Instead, he got to his feet and concentrated on folding the sleeves so that they were symmetrical at the elbows. It wasn't something he had to do on a daily basis because he preferred clothes of the sleeveless variety, but he supposed sleeves were at least good for wiping sweat.

Having done the folding, Kai placed his forearms together to check his handiwork. The thing with sleeves that irritated him most was that they _had_ to be symmetrical. Kern used to do it for him when he was younger, and had passed on his symmetry-mania to both his sons. _Among other things._

Halfway through making the final adjustments to his folding, he heard Reina call out, "Right. Done! You can look now, Kai-pie!"

Kai spun on the balls of his shoes and brought his face up from the folding. It was an almost automatic response to her voice, and when he did, even his thoughts froze in place.

The dress – which seemed to be made of cotton – was a rich burgundy, nearly the same shade as Reina's hair, and was rather elaborate in its design. The collar was cut just low enough to expose her collar bones, the fabric bunched elegantly around the neck. Golden embroidery adorned the sleeves and traced along the front of the gown to the hem of its floor length skirt. Ribbons of a darker shade were tied above the elbow of either sleeve, and were delicately bunched into the shape of flowers atop either shoulder.

Reina herself had worn her hair in a bun... and that was it. No special touches of colour on her cheeks or eyelids whatsoever, but that just seemed to amplify her radiance.

Kai counted himself lucky at the lack of a plunging neckline. That would have been... too much.

"So," the girl began and twirled around playfully. "How do I look?"

Kai wasn't sure how to respond to that. Growing up, Reina had always been a tomboy, his _partner._ She fought with the boys, played marbles with them and was never the type to fret over torn clothes or fawn over dresses.

She _was _girly, but not in a giggly and gossipy way that he found irritating. She was... well, she was Reina. Rock-solid, teasing and with the brightest smile he had ever seen. Even when she had blackmailed him into marriage or when she endlessly flirted with him – all jokingly, Kai was sure – she could look so... _feminine_. It was a previously foreign concept and the sight of her now had left him flabbergasted.

Kai was made aware of the fact that he was staring when he saw Reina smile that smile of hers which made her nose crinkle in a way he found infuriatingly endearing.

_Wait. Stop thinking. Concentrate on how she pulled your pants down in the marketplace when you were eight. Focus on the hatred for fuck's sake, man. Get a hold of yourself!_

Sighing, Kai pocketed his hands and asked, "Has anybody ever told you that you're beautiful?"

Here, she smirked. "Why do you ask?"

Kai shrugged. "Well, they fucking lied."

Banter was familiar territory. It was what they were good at.

"Very funny," Reina said, hands at her hips, and gave him a scrutinising look. "Won't you be taking a weapon?"

"Why, exactly? It's supposed to be a ball. Not an invasion." After a pause: "Is it?"

The redhead laughed and waved it off. "No, you silly goat." _Goat. What. _"I just mean that most of the attendees will be carrying a weapon of some sort – mostly ceremonial – to the event. Why don't you carry that katana you always keep at your side? It's nice. Unique."

Kai hesitated. "I don't... I don't use it. It's not a weapon." _Well, not anymore, at least._

"Oh? Then what is it?"

"My penance."

It was true. He merely carried it around to remind himself of a hard-learned lesson.

"Huh," Reina muttered, and Kai prepared himself to scowl at the imminent barrage of questions. "Well, I guess you'll just have to go unarmed, then. Could you at least unsheathe it though? I don't think I've ever seen the blade..."

The man was not prepared to handle this situation. "You're not curious?"

"About what?"

"About... never mind." He sighed as he picked up the blade from where it was leant up against the wall. Then he approached the redhead and held the hilt out towards her, keeping his fingers on the scabbard.

"Don't get me wrong, I have at least a few dozen questions for you," Reina said with a smile as he held the grip gingerly, feeling the rough texture. "But I'll just wait till you're ready and willing to answer."

Before Kai could even form a reply in his mind, she slid the blade out from the scabbard.

"Oh."

Frowning slightly, he studied Reina's face as she in turn studied the weapon. Despite himself, he was forced to respect her for her consideration of his privacy. The girl had always kept him on his toes, even from the days of their early childhood, and that was a fact that hadn't changed. Kai doubted it ever would.

He then gazed at his sword.

It had at one point been about twenty-four inches in length. Now, it was somewhere between six and seven, having been snapped in action. The angle at which it had broken had shaped it like a tanto – still capable of shallow thrusts and small cuts – but uncomfortable to wield as a proper battlefield weapon. The oval-shaped handguard was designed in the shape of a snake – or a wyrm – eating its own tail. Though the handguard was made of brass, the blade itself was steel – pattern welded steel. Near the thick spine was inlaid an inscription: the name of the original user.

"Esbern Asarsen," Reina said softly. "D'you know who he is?"

"Stepfather's father. The sword was passed down, so to speak."

"Ah. Why to you and not his own son?"

Kai shrugged. "Ivan embraced magecraft. He took to magick more than he did to weaponry. I was the only other one."

Reina hummed and slid the broken blade back into its sheath. "How'd you break it?"

"A big, black dragon bit it," the man replied curtly as he replaced the sword in its original place of rest. "Few things can stand up to that."

"Helgen?"

"Yeah."

She offered him a sympathetic look, and Kai hiked his shoulders as a response. He had only spoken to Omiq and Ghorbash about the events of Helgen and he intended to keep it that way. Sure, Reina and he had rekindled their friendship, but still, one needed a lot of trust to even think about sharing something of that magnitude. He was sure that with time – _if_ they stayed in contact – he'd trust her with the tale. But not for the present.

"So when do we have to go?" he asked instead.

"About now, I'd think," his _wife_ answered with a tilt of her head. "It's already dark. We wouldn't want to be late."

"Right." Kai sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose, preparing himself for the coming ordeal. "Let's get this over with."

Nothing had yet deterred his iron will. It was a fact that he prided himself upon. Indeed, he had to summon every ounce of it as he descended the stairs to the deserted restaurant – _dressed like a blooming jester_ – where Omiq and Ghorbash sat playing cards.

Before Reina could come down – Kai was thankful for that movement-impeding dress – he confronted his comrades with a scowl as soon as they looked up. "Not. One. Word," he hissed threateningly.

But as usual, he was greeted with solemn nods followed with table thumping and howling laughter. Not that he could blame them. He looked bloody _ridiculous_.

So instead, Kai simply glared silently, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, you jackasses. I'll have my day too! Just you watch!"

"Oh we are," Ghorbash replied, proudly displaying all of his yellow teeth. "We're watching, all right."

"But by Arkay, do you look _dashing_!"

"All _prim_ and _proper_."

"_Posh_."

"Ironically enough."

By the time the two had ended their exchange and burst back into laughter – further earning Kai's ire – Reina had regally climbed down the steps and into the restaurant proper. The Nord man had never been more relieved to see her. At least with her here, they could _leave_. _Away from the laughter._

"Miss Reina, you look stunning!"

"Dazzling!"

"Beautiful!"

"Magnificent!"

"Resplendent!"

Kai massaged his forehead.

Reina, however, curtsied. "Why thank you! It means a lot to me to have your approval." Then she smirked at Kai. "He looks acceptable too, doesn't he?"

"Yes, we were _just..._ complimenting the Captain on his dress sense," Ghorbash said with a smirk. "You picked the clothes for him, yes?"

"Yesh!"

Omiq nodded. "Good thing, too. Otherwise, he'd have just walked into the Blue Palace in rags, nya."

"One of these days, cat-bastard, I'll-"

"Yes, yes. You're all manly and mighty," Reina said, interrupting his moment of glorious rebuttal and latched onto his arm before dragging him purposefully towards the door. "Death threats can wait. This is more important!"

"Wha- what- why are you holding my hand?!"

"It's how _gentlemen_ walk their ladies, Kai-pie."

"Why wasn't I given prior notice, dammit?!"

"Oh shush. I'll take care of your ego's booboo when we get back, okay?"

Muttering darkly, Kai threw a last glare at a sniggering Omiq as he closed the door behind them.

_Calm down, Kai. You're being paid now. You can do this!_

Running his free hand through his now shortened mop of black hair, the man took a deep breath and shifted his focus to the surroundings rather than his own misery.

And it worked.

The people from the Bards College, with the help of the locals, had decorated the streets magnificently. Festoons of ribbons adorned the building on either side of every road, with braziers made of black marble and bronze were situated along every road, each with a uniquely coloured flame. The whole city was wrapped in the festive cheer, but Kai found his unease rising.

There were too many people.

Kai never had problems with masses before. But he did now. He was painfully aware of the many intermingling scents deliciously tickling his nostrils, exciting his body. He felt the same thrill he felt every time he tracked a man-eater. The thrill of the hunt, the thrill of having abundant game all around him.

The beast blood had been dormant in the confines of Proudspire Manor and even in RIften immediately after he had been infected. But now that it had had time to manifest, the overpowering urge to shift, to lose his mind and go on a rampage – it had gotten all the more tempting.

_I need to get out and stay away from heavily populated areas._

He had known this would happen eventually. There was a reason why Sinding had stayed at the grotto, had left Whiterun. Perhaps the same fate awaited him. Who knew? Maybe he could share the grotto with Sinding after all this. It was something to consider.

The redhead on his arm, however, was having a very different thought process.

"Everything's so bright and pretty," she exclaimed, bringing her mouth entirely too close to Kai's ear. "RIften's celebrations can never match up to this."

She no doubt thought that unless she spoke directly into his ear, he wouldn't hear. She didn't know that her actions were sending wave after wave of tingly sensations down his spine. Though _very _pleasurable, it wasn't something Kai wanted to feel very much.

"Uh-huh," he answered curtly, spying the large cluster of people at the end of the road, right before the gates to the Palace. _What the fuck is that about?_

"Oh you're such a sourpuss sometimes."

"Yeah, yeah."

It was at this moment that a Legion soldier Kai knew as Hadvar approached them and asked to see their invitations.

"Tullius still loves his damned lists, I see," Kai said drily after handing over his, earning a sympathetic smile from the soldier.

"You know how he is. I'd reckon you'd know _best_ how he is," he replied and nodded to a Redguard who checked off something in a leather bound ledger. "Well, you're free to go inside. Or wait outside for the guest of honour's arrival."

"Guest of honour?" Reina asked before Kai could.

Hadvar smiled. "Oh, you don't know? High Queen Elisif has invited the Dragonborn to be amongst us on this occasion. He has accepted the invitation as well. The Bards College has prepared a short welcome for the Saviour of Skyrim, and so many of the guests have chosen to stay outside here to witness the performance. The High Queen herself will be joining us presently."

"The _Dragonborn_?" Reina squealed girlishly and squeezed Kai's bicep with convulsive strength, making him wince. _Since when is she so monstrously strong? _"Can we see the performance, Kai-pie? Please please please please-"

Ignoring her pleas, Kai asked Hadvar, "Will Tullius will be out here as well?"

Hadvar's sympathetic smile immediately turned apologetic. "I'm afraid so, Captain," he said as he walked the couple to the place designated for the spectators – on the flanks of the College folk who stood before the gate. "I hope it won't be a major inconvenience."

"I couldn't care less," Kai replied curtly. He saw Reina him her infamous _I smell a story here and you are going to tell me later _look, which he also ignored. "Where's Aldis? Wasn't he in charge of security?"

Hadvar shrugged. "He's around... somewhere. I really must be going, Captain. The Dragonborn's carriage will be here at any moment, and I have to go fetch the Queen-"

"You're dismissed, Hadvar," Kai told the soldier with a smirk, who in turn smiled and gave a mock salute before hurrying off towards the interior of the castle.

"You know, I rather like your soldiery-ness," Reina said quietly, placing her head on his shoulder. "It makes you sound all _manly_ and assertive."

"And what's your point."

"Just that I _really_ like it," she purred playfully. Kai didn't know whether to shove her head off his shoulder or strangle her for making his body react weirdly.

Kai opened his mouth to reply, but closed it because at that very moment, the double gates of the palace was thrown open and Elisif the Fair, High Queen of Skyrim – dressed adequately for the occasion – stepped out, flanked on either side by General Tulius and Legate Rikke. Aldis and Hadvar covered the rear, hands on hilts as they walked along.

Soldiers and guards were everywhere, both overt and covert. Kai had no doubt that they had archers on every rooftop in the immediate vicinity.

"She's prettier up close," Reina commented as the monarch passed them. Kai grunted. He didn't like Elisif overmuch. Then again, he didn't like _anybody_ overmuch.

The College folk readied their instruments and did weird breathing exercises. The very next moment came noises of great clamouring, clapping and whistling from the common folk who had gathered to see the arrival of the Dragonborn. The Queen waved at them, and the crowds, thus encouraged, got even louder. Kai half wanted to shield his ears from the din.

He was about to when a new noise was introduced. It was faint, but he could hear the cheers of people throughout Solitude, the crashing of hooves against stone in the distance.

_The Dragonborn comes._

"Dragonborn's coming," he told Reina.

"How do you know?"

It was then that the roar of the excited crowd reached a crescendo and the carriage appeared in view. Drawn by four horses, it was a grand thing indeed. Worthy of the Saviour of Skyrim.

"I know things," he answered quietly as the horses stopped short of the other gates of the Blue Palace.

Reina gave him a look, but said nothing.

The carriage doors opened and the Dragonborn stepped out.

* * *

**Casair**

Nervous. Anxious. Scared. Casair couldn't pick what she felt as the crowd swelled on either side of them.

She had never performed for strangers, far less the Dragonborn or the Queen. Nor did she have any experience with Brotherhood assassins telling her in very casual terms that they would kill her.

So when Aigil had told them all to stay strong and be patient, she had half wanted to jam her shoe up his rear.

The orchestra formed a medium sized semi-circle in front of the palace gates. The male vocalists – all thirty of them – were at the rear. Wooden steps had been constructed for them so that each column stood a tad higher than the one before them. Directly before them, on ground level, were the female vocalists who doubled as the drummers; the only part they had to lend their voices to was devoid of any drumming. Finally, the trumpeters and violists flanked the vocalists on either side.

Casair nervously tapped her fingers on the drum before her. What if the assassin swooped down from somewhere then and there? She had confided in Ailig and though he assured her that no self-respecting assassin would kill a target where they had no chance of escape, she still couldn't be easy in her mind.

_As if I didn't already have enough pressure to deal with. Stupid, bloody orange-headed jackass!_

Illdi, the Nordic girl who had been standing beside her, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't be so nervous," she said gently. "We've rehearsed enough. More than enough. It'll be magnificent, just you wait and see."

_Ah, if only you knew, _Casair thought as she tried to smile at the girl. "Thank you."

"No, we should be thanking you and your Wayrest folk. Without the additional manpower, I doubt we'd have been able to pull this off."

It was getting late. The night air was chilly, what with it being the last day on the year and all. The guards and Legionnaires were escorting guests inside or helping them find places to stand and watch the spectacle unfold. Casair half wanted to fake food poisoning and run away. But then she'd be by herself and an easy target for any assassin.

She cursed Riften.

As a Legionnaire went around them and entered the palace, no doubt to retrieve the Queen, Viarmo stood before them and clapped, drawing their attention to him.

"The Queen will be out soon," he said, quivering with nervous energy. "That can only mean that the arrival of the Dragonborn is not far away. The moment we've been waiting for is almost upon us."

Though Casair remained silent, the back row complained with a few groans. Viarmo silenced the men.

"I am well aware that this is probably the most illustrious crowd we have ever performed before," the elderly Altmer said. "I won't add to your nervousness by reiterating the importance of this performance. I know how hard you've all rehearsed for this. Hours upon hours of practice have been invested. As such, I have complete faith in every one of you." A smile. "I firmly believe you should too."

Powerful words. If only words could take away the Brotherhood assassin.

Mere moments later, the gates of the Blue Palace were held open and the High Queen was escorted out, flanked on either side by soldiers. She seemed nice, nodding and smiling at the orchestra and the guests. Casair shook her head. Terrorism was not the way to go. The shortsword strapped to her right thigh felt too heavy a burden instead of giving her comfort like it usually did.

"Get ready," Viarmo told them after exchanging pleasantries with the queen. "The Dragonborn's arrival is upon us."

And with those words, days of practice kicked in, making Casair focus on her breathing. A lull came over the entire orchestra. Everybody was loosening up, all complaining coming to a halt.

The chattering of the guests was soon amplified as a four-horse driven carriage – more of a chariot than a carriage, Casair thought – stopped before the outer gates. The gates were thrown open from within and the Dragonborn stepped out to much cheering and whooping.

The man was dressed in simple clothes: a loose fitting, full sleeved golden yellow tunic and tan trousers tucked into high boots. A sword hung from his hip. The man himself seemed out of place, rubbing the back of his head, waving at the crowd and grinning goofily.

Then Viarmo stood and faced the orchestra. It was time for the bards to perform.

Magically, the crowd quietened with the first beat of the drums. After that, the male vocalists and the violists started their work in tandem, building up the score. Whatever muttering lingered was silenced when the first 'hurrahs' were shouted.

The song, as far as Casair could tell, was and old legend about how the Dragonborn was destined to stop the rise of Alduin. According to Viarmo, it was actually a translated version of the original, which was composed by the ancient Nords in the language of the dragons.

Personally, she had doubts about this, but it _was_ a damn good song.

As the trumpeters took over at the end of the first stanza, the brunette couldn't help but feel chills. The song, augmented by the music, had the capability of doing that.

Here she was, singing about the deeds of the Dragonborn, arguably the greatest and most beloved hero of the Nords, while fearing the end of her life at the hands of an assassin. She snorted. Even the song, which sounded more like the battle cry of a barbarian army, seemed to be mocking her.

Oh she had heard the stories. She had heard how the Dragonborn was to be executed at Helgen, but how the Fates had intervened. She had heard about how he had joined the Companions, how he had no combat prowess. Even as he grew as a warrior, he refused to acknowledge his destiny. He denied it in every turn. He'd also wanted to run and hide, just like she did now.

It was a very humane story, she thought as she lay down the drumstick and lent her voice to the female chorus. Very relatable to every person alive. It showed how the people's hero was not so different from themselves. Precisely the reason why he had become the symbol of hope and faith in every household of the province.

As the singing crescendoed then and stopped, only to be replaced by the instrumental interlude, Casair felt her hands shaking, though not out of nervousness.

She _felt_, with every fibre of her being, the magic of the ancient Nordic song taking effect. The music permeated her very core. The words resonated in her ears. Not just any barbaric battle cry, but a triumphant battle cry. All because a coward had embraced his fate, climbed a mountain and slain a dragon to begin a hero, a legend.

And that man was standing only a few yards from her, swaying and muttering along with the song.

_If that isn't an inspiration, I don't know what is._

Ironic, how a Forsworn was inspired by a Nordic hero.

As the voices finally merged with the music for the last leg of the song, Casair felt the hairs on the back of her neck and along her arms stand on end. What manner of sorcery was this?

The words spoke of hope, about how one day the Dragonborn would silence the lies of the dark dragon and save fair Skyrim from the maws of the World-Eater. Casair knew Illdi and some of the others had broken into tears during this part, and honestly, she could not blame them.

Finally, as the words bled into loud hurrahs, and the female chorus melted into the music and faded, with the crowd erupting into applause and wild applause, Casair smiled as wide as she had ever smiled.

At that moment, she believed that she could single-handedly slaughter the entire Dark Brotherhood.

* * *

**Conrart**

Many things Conrart had been expecting to see on this quest of mingling with high society. Hearing his own song sung to him had not been among those.

So he had just stood there, muttering along in Dovahzul, letting the music wash over him. There wasn't much he could do, anyway.

It was touching in a way. People he didn't even know had congratulated him on saving the world, told him how his deeds were the inspiration to many, how he was the symbol of hope to the masses.

And so when the bard performance came to a close and many greetings and pleasantries were exchanged with the performers, the guests were ushered into the halls of the Blue Palace.

Conrart had never been there before. He had been to Solitude for business a few times, but never had an audience with the High Queen in her domain. The only thing that countered his nervousness was the presence of a lot of finely dressed young women. There was an abundance of beauty everywhere, and he was free to look. He even had a few flirtatious glances and smiles thrown at him, but he quickly moved on. He had an oath to stick to.

He exchanged season's greetings with many a Thane, had a lengthy discussion on military tactics with General Tullius, and a short dance with the High Queen herself. Conrart had heard plenty about how Elisif was not fit to rule, of how she depended too much on her advisers and the general for guidance. Indeed, many a rumour stated that she held no actual power and was a puppet of the Empire, and in turn, the Thalmor.

However, upon observing the petite redhead who had swung him around the dance floor with practiced ease, the only thing Conrart read from her was confidence. It was dormant, but it was strong.

All in all, he was relatively satisfied with Skyrim's sovereign. The fact that she was good to look at didn't hurt.

_Eight and a half out of ten, _he thought as he excused himself from the dance floor and made for the outer fringes. Specifically, the table where they kept the bottles of liquor.

The drinks had been arranged on a log table on the right hand side of the palace gates, across from where the bards were providing chamber music for the dancing couples. It was a pleasant atmosphere and all, but Conrart was more used to the wilds of Skyrim and the unruliness of Jorrvaskr. High society made him nervous and uncomfortable and he couldn't help but feel that his welcome had been outstayed.

_And from the looks of it, I'm not the only one who feels this way._

Indeed, many a guest was frequenting the table, some more than others. Conrart couldn't blame them either. A wider assortment of alcohol he had never seen before.

"Try the Firebrand wine," one of the guests advised him as she poured herself a glass and smiled. "I think you'll like it," she said and then trotted over to her dance partner.

Conrart took the whole bottle. _Whatever I can get for free_.

Sipping generously, the Dragonborn made his way to a semi-quiet corner, where a few people stood drinking and discussing politics or watching the dancing unfold. Nobody bothered him overmuch, other than a few questions about dragons and Jorrvaskr, and Conrart was soon left to his own devices.

It was very rare that he got a chance to take on the role of a casual observer. Between surprise destinies and prophecies swooping down at every turn, it almost felt as if the world was revolving around him, that he was at the centre of some grand play devised by the Divines for their amusement. Though the thought didn't sit well with him, he had enough faith fuelling him to accept that the will of the Divines would, in the end, see him through.

It always did.

Smiling to himself, Conrart brought the bottle up to his lips and took another sip. The stuff was _strong_, he wouldn't lie. He had tasted enough mead and beer in his years at Jorrvaskr, but this literally burnt his throat. It almost felt like breathing in fire instead of breathing it _out._

_It's a nice little change, though._

"Fucking mudcrab humping bureaucrats," Conrart heard someone mutter as the person passed in front of him, heading for the alcohol counter. "...flogged with the damning fancy dressed pansies..."

Apparently _someone_ wasn't very happy with his current surroundings. The man in question was dressed in fine black clothes, but lacked the air of nobility all the other guests seemed to radiate. His gait was stiff but purposeful, unnatural in the present environment. Conrart raised his bottle in a silent toast; a fellow stranger who didn't belong.

And then the man turned to pick his poison and Conrart could see his profile, causing him to almost drop the bottle.

Conrart always had trouble remembering the faces of acquaintances, people whom he met once or twice and then drifted away. He had confidence that he would forever remember three such faces: that of Ulfric Stormcloak, Krev the Skinner and this man in black.

He didn't have a name to pin to the face, but he would recognise that face anywhere. Oblivion, he'd recognise anything even remotely related to Helgen with a fleeting glance. And he'd had more than a fleeting glance at this man.

17th of Last Seed, 4E 201. More than two years ago, and yet it felt like nary a day had passed.

Just as the man filled his glass with mead, Conrart stepped up to him and cleared his throat.

"I know this might sound awkward and intrusive," he began. _Yeah, no shit._ "But I was wondering... you look awfully like someone I had last seen a long time ago, so I just had to make sure."

_Real smooth Connie. Bravo_.

The man paused in his actions and only turned his head, gaze narrowing, bottle in one hand and glass in another. "I'm married," he said. "Go try that on someone who gives a fuck."

Conrart had survived many a rejection, but never something so curt and _raw_. The fact that the man went straight back to filling his glass was what put the final nail in the coffin.

_...so cold._

"I didn't... mean it... in that way," the Dragonborn stammered. "I-I like women, actually. But, uh..." he cleared his throat. "I just felt like I've seen you before. At Helgen."

It was a very vague thing to say, but the way Helgen rolled off his tongue... it always conveyed one, single meaning. And from the sharp intake of breath, the stranger had got his meaning.

The dark haired Nord straightened and placed the bottle back down on the table, jaw working steadily. Then he downed the whole glass in one go.

Conrart watched him carefully. It felt good, being right.

"Should I know you?" the man asked, tone clipped.

Conrart nodded. "The Nord in the rags at Helgen. Wasn't on-"

"-the goddamn list. Yes, I remember," the man muttered and filled his glass again. Only then did he give Conrart a once over. "So _you're_ the Dragonborn."

There was a casual indifference in his tone. Like he didn't even care about the Dragonborn status.

"Yeah," Conrart replied. "My name is Conrart. I never did get yours."

"Kai. Call me Kai."

No hands were offered, and so Conrart didn't want to make it even more awkward by doing it.

"You're a Legionnaire?"

"I used to be. Haven't been one since after Helgen."

Conrart nodded. He had seen recruitment drives all over Whiterun after the incident at Helgen. Apparently, there had been a mass desertion of some sort. What with the Nordic God of Death swooping down from a tear in time to devour the souls of the living, he _really_ didn't blame the deserters.

"Anyway, I wanted to thank you. For saving my life, I mean," Conrart added the last part quickly. "You pulled me out of the rubble and healed me enough to be able to walk. I would've been dead if not for you. Didn't get to thank you then, so..."

A shrug. "Don't worry about it. I was a soldier then. I was paid to do that sort of thing."

"And what do you do now?"

"Me? I'm a hunter, tracker, scout. It gets me through life."

"Well. I happen to be affiliated to the Companions-"

"Not interested."

That stumped Conrart. That was the first time someone had refused to join the Companions. Every able bodied warrior wanted to join the Companions.

"Why? We're always on the lookout for people worthy of joining and-"

"And just with exchanging a few words you think I'm worthy? Or this is your way of repaying me for a deed long forgotten?"

The Dragonborn rubbed the back of head, grinning stupidly.

"Partly," he confessed. "The Companions stand for glory and honour on the battlefield. It's a worthy goal for any warrior, more so a Nord."

Kai paused in his actions and Conrart felt something of a change in his mannerisms.

"The Companions, like any other mercenary guild, or the Legion, are paid murderers," Kai finally said, chewing out every word. "I'd rather do my own killing myself. I'm done being a dog on a leash."

Conrart could respect that, at least. Everybody had their own opinions regarding everything.

"Fair enough," he replied with a shrug. "The front doors of Jorrvaskr are always open for you, should you change your mind. We're a reminder that chivalry is still alive. For the most part."

Kai grunted. "Honour, glory, charisma... there is no point in talking to somebody who sees the value in such things."

Conrart was about to take a long gulp from his bottle of wine but stopped midway, lowering his hand to his side. "Are you insulting my ideals to my face?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"You _heroes_ and _knights_ in _shining_ armour," the man said evenly. "You all act as if there's some sacred nobility to the battlefield. These illusions, perpetrated by heroes – like you, the Nerevarine, the Whitestake – throughout history have led countless young people to their bloody deaths all for the sake of this honour and glory you all pursue."

"They are not illusions," the Dragonborn replied with all the calm he could muster. "Even the taking of a life, as an act of a conscious being, _must_ have ideals! Otherwise every war would bring forth the flames of Oblivion itself!"

A mocking smirk manifested itself on the man's face as he tipped his glass to Conrart. "So you, _Saviour of Skyrim_, think that a battlefield is better than Oblivion. What a joke." He drained his glass. "It's Oblivion itself. There is no hope in a battlefield. There is nothing but unspeakable despair. Just a crime we call victory, paid for by the pain of the defeated. War never changes. It always wins." A mirthless chuckle. "_But_. But but but... we have never realised this. You know why? Because in every era, a dazzling hero – much like yourself – has appeared and blinded the people with legends, keeping them from seeing the evil of the bloodshed they bring. Justice and righteousness, glory and honour, such things cannot save the world. As such, I don't care for them."

"Don't you understand? If you use evil to stop evil, that rage and hatred will only give rise to new conflict," Conrart tried, taking a step forward. The dancing, the music, it might have never existed at that moment. It was just him and Kai, locked in a debate. "Do you want that?"

"What I want and what is possible are two very different things," Kai replied. "As such, it's irrelevant. Instead, what do _you_ want?"

"Me? My wants are simple. I just want to keep protecting the people of Skyrim to the best of my ability."

"And you don't think that's greedy?"

"I... what?"

Kai filled his glass again. "You're a swordsman, yes?" he asked, pointing the glass to the sword which hung from the Dragonborn's hip. "Then you should know that learning the way of the sword is learning how to murder. Murder is the _only_ art a swordsman may practice. No amount of ornamental words can change that." Conrart then saw Kai's cat-like amber eyes lock onto his own serpentine blue and a shudder passed along his spine. "You want to protect people with murder? You'll slaughter legions so that a few may live. Yeah, maybe the vast majority of the people you'll kill will be evil, but they're still people. That peaceful utopia you so ardently wish to enter will not know what to do with someone like you. It will deceive you into believing that you are saving lives even as you destroy them. You will accept these lies all the while your hands will be stained with the worst of offences."

Kai then threw his head back and downed the drink. "You will kill, and kill, and kill, until death becomes your only companion. And after witnessing meaningless massacres over and over again, you will regret." He placed his glass down on the table and then turned to walk away saying, "That's all you'll have left to do."

Conrart had to confess, it was pretty damn hard to refute any of what the man had said. In fact, it was nigh impossible. Every word had been said with conviction, as if he had experienced it himself. This was a man vastly different from the one he had seen at Helgen. The Kai then had pulled people out of the keep, the houses and the inn, had pumped Restoration spells into charred but still alive bodies, begging them to pull through. The Kai then had wanted to save as many as he probably could have.

"So that's it, then?" Conrart said to Kai's back, making the man stop. "Helgen changed your outlook on the world completely? You went from trying to save people to indifference?"

"Hmm. No. I just realised that it's impossible to save everyone," he replied, turning his head slightly. "So I don't even bother. Besides, that's your job now, Dovahkiin."

Conrart swallowed. He opened his mouth to speak-

"Kai-pie~"

-and promptly closed his mouth again. He was certain he saw Kai shudder.

A startlingly radiant red haired woman waltzed up to Kai and grabbed his arm. "Dance. Now."

And then she hauled him off to the dance floor, grinning widely at his loud complaints.

_Must be the wife_, Conrart thought. Probably someone of exceptional character to reduce the strong-willed ex-Legionnaire to _Kai-pie_.

Taking a long-awaited sip from his bottle of wine, the Dragonborn sighed and made his way back to his own corner, marking Kai's wife nine out of ten.

* * *

**Reina**

"You said nothing about dancing!"

"It was implied, Kai-pie."

"But... I can't dance..."

"Oh, pish posh! I'll teach you!"

Reina had had to learn the ways of being a lady. She had to work on her charm, her speech, poise, gait, facial expression and accent and how to change any of these to become somebody else. It was crucial if one wanted to successfully blend in. She mostly took jobs concerning high society and so these skills came in handy.

But dancing, dancing had been something she had been doing since her teens. She _loved_ the activity. It was liberating; one of the very few times she could be completely rid of all pretences and be free.

Manoeuvring around the dancing couples, hauling Kai along as she did so, Reina suddenly whirled around and Kai almost ran into her, making her smirk.

"It's simple really. You take your left hand annnnd..." She took his hand and placed it around her waist. "Like thaaaat. And your right..." she said and threaded the fingers of her left hand with his and placed her right hand atop his collarbone before closing the distance between them.

_He's blushing! So adorable!_

"Not so hard, eh?" she asked with a chuckle, enjoying the flustered expression Kai wore. "Now, just move with me..."

She tried to sound as soothing as she possibly could. It was like teaching a toddler. He was tense and uncomfortable; completely out of his element. Reina would ease him into it. The fact that he was actually going through with the whole thing was nothing short of a miracle.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn't keep up with her movements. When she stepped back, pulling him with her, Kai lost his footing and his nose crashed into his collarbone. Reina snickered.

"Did you hurt yourself?" she asked, patting his shoulder as her husband held his nose and muttered curses into his palm.

"I don't want to dance anymore."

"Too bad for you, we'll have to put on a performance for all the world to see," she replied with a wide grin and hurriedly replaced his hand on her waist, placed her hand on his shoulder and intertwined their fingers.

_Okay. Round two._

"Take it slow, Kai-pie. You're just a beginner," she told him. "You don't have to match me. Just move _with_ me."

"Well, alright," came the grumbled response.

She led him around in a box till he almost got comfortable with the rhythm. Then she would quicken the pace a little and let him adjust. She would also slow down from time to time, just to get him used to the shift in tempo. Fortunately, he was a quick study.

"You're good," she said with a smile.

"It's almost like fighting," Kai muttered evasively. "It's not _that_ hard."

_Oh really?_

"Well now I'm going to twirl you!"

"Wait wha-"

Before he could even protest, Reina pushed his shoulder outwards with her left hand and threw him outward before pulling him back in with her right. She knew she was being mean to him, but that panicked yelp was well worth it.

However, it wasn't fun when his body collided with hers, throwing them both off balance, though neither went down on the floor.

"Fuck this shit," Kai snapped and released her hands before turning on his heels and marching away.

_Oh dear._

Kai didn't get far, though. Reina ran after him and grabbed his right hand with both of hers and pulled him back.

"Sorry, that was totally my fault," she apologised sheepishly. "I got too excited. One more go? Please?"

The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, tapping his foot on the floor impatiently.

"I don't even know why I let myself get into these fucking situations," he said finally before levelling his gaze on her. "Just one."

That was all that Reina needed.

It took a while to build up his confidence in her again. After that near fiasco, Kai had become a lot more reluctant and a lot less cooperative. _I've deserved this much, I suppose._

In their lack of coordination, they had bumped into another couple and after a few muted apologies, she felt Kai putting more effort into his footwork.

"Eyes on me," she told him softly after noticing how he kept looking down at his legs repeatedly. When his gaze met hers, she offered him a smile. "Don't worry too much about grace, Kai. Just... imagine us sparring. Try to move with me."

Her statement was met with a scoff. "Easy for you to say."

But at that very moment, the music changed. This was slower tune. Much slower.

_Perfect! Nocturnal must really love me tonight._

Smirking deviously, the redhead pushed her body against Kai's as snugly as she could.

"Wha-what're you doing?!"

"Shh," she replied, tucking her head under his chin and letting go of his hand to place it upon his right shoulder. "Hold me tighter, Kai. Just sway with me."

"_Why?!_"

_Men are such children._

"To better give the impression of our closeness. Besides, you're getting a free chance to get intimate with a voluptuous and gorgeous woman. Will you pass it up?"

"I-you-what-"

Sighing, Reina patted his shoulder and nuzzled the crook of his neck, making him shudder.

"If you don't, I'll bite."

"...you _wouldn't_."

"Mmmm. Would you be willing to bet on that, then?"

As expected, she felt Kai's arms snake around her waist. The redhead purred as he pulled her closer, easily moving with her.

"You'll be the death of me, just so you know."

She couldn't see his face, but he would be flushed. Kai's whole body had heated up somewhat. The man was clearly unaccustomed to this and a _very tiny_ bit of her felt bad for him.

"At least you're a quick study," Reina chuckled. "Now get comfortable, love."

"Fuck you."

"Oh? Right _now_?"

"...you're lucky there are witnesses around, so I can't murder you outright."

Through the banter, Reina led Kai through the stiff awkwardness of this new position they were in. To her, it became more and more natural. She hadn't been held this way in a long, long time. Part of her wanted to stay that way for a while yet, even as she realised that Kai wasn't the same as Mercer. There _was_ love, but of another kind. They were friends, they knew each other well, but she hungered for something else. Unfair as it was, Reina imagined herself in Mercer's embrace.

"So, all these years you've been off being a Legionnaire and a hunter, never thought of settling down?"

"How do you mean?"

"You know. Meeting a nice girl, falling in love, the whole romance thing."

Reina had expected a swift retort or even a swear word. The pause threw her off.

_I smell a story!_

"There was someone," Kai said slowly. "But that was a long time ago."

"Really? There exists a girl to bring even the great Kai-pie to his knees?" she laughed and looked up at him. "So what was she like?"

A shrug. "She's a unique piece. That's the most apt description."

"Huh. So what happened?"

"Nothing happened. I never said anything."

Reina slapped his shoulder. "Why not?"

Kai hummed and looked down at her crossly. "I didn't want to expose her to the nightmare that is Reina Coldridge."

She couldn't help but giggle. "That scary, am I?"

"I confess to nothing."

Reina would've poked him about his life further, but the night wasn't getting any younger and she had a job to do. And so as the music stopped and the various couples all kissed each other, she grasped Kai's hand and pulled him off of the dance floor. Eyes darting everywhere, the redhead made sure to twine her hands around Kai's as she led him to the side.

She had noticed many a couple disappearing from time to time for a few minutes or even hours. It didn't take much imagination to make a guess as to what they were up to. There were rooms aplenty in the Palace and from the looks of it, some were open to the public for hanky-panky.

_As expected, then._

"So," she began with a wide grin, though in her _Guildmaster_ voice. "Do you know Falk Firebeard by sight, Kai-pie?"

The man snorted. "Yeap. Fart blossom. Why d'you ask?"

"He's the steward, right?"

"That's up to interpretation."

"He has the keys to most rooms, then?"

Kai raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well, I need a room to change, stupid," she said and stuck out her tongue at his stupidity. "Can't go a-thieving in a bloody gown can I?"

"And you're going to pickpocket Falk?"

"That's the plan, yes."

"No," Kai said, brows furrowed. "Falk might be steward, but he's the one who holds true power in this province, not Elisif. Tullius knows that well. He'll keep Falk flanked by plainclothes guards."

Reina pouted. "And you think I can't manage a theft with such petty obstacles? You wound me, Kai-pie!"

"Look, if you had come alone, I wouldn't have given a toss what you do how you did it," the man said with a shake of his head. "But you aren't alone. I'm in the field with you, and as such, I ain't letting you endanger yourself even before the crucial part."

"You're sweet," Rein smirked and patted Kai's cheek, much to his chagrin. "Okay then. Do you have a better idea, my dearest protector?"

Kai remained silent for a while, looking over the mass of people at Falk Firebeard, who stood a good twenty yards away, engaged in conversation with some noble or another. Reina saw her husband's lips quirk into a half-smirk and _knew_ that the gears were spinning in his head. It was a look Kai had worn many a time while planning a prank on the Riften guards.

"Yes," he said with easy confidence. "Yes I believe I do."

"Wanna share?"

In response, he looked straight at her and smirked. "It'd be best if I showed you."

He then pulled his hand free from hers and placed his hand around her back, pulling her against his side, eliciting a soft yelp from Reina.

"Uncomfortable, are you? Why let me make it better for you."

With that, his palm slid up against the small of her back in a very... _possessive_ and _lover-y_ way. Reina felt her toes curl inside her shoes reflexively.

_Probably just nerves_, she told herself even as her face heated up.

"What're you _doing_?"

"Payback," Kai replied casually. "Now walk with me, darling."

_A taste of my own medicine, eh. I like it!_

Regaining her composure, Reina tucked her shoulder under Kai's and looped her arms around him, snuggling in with a gentle smile. The thrill of the unknown was always a strong one. Especially when they were up to no good.

Kai walked her slowly, yet purposefully towards Falk and waited till he was done talking to whomever it was he was talking to before addressing the man directly.

"Hello there, Firebeard. Acting busy, are you?" Kai asked, grinning.

Falk smiled tiredly. "Captain."

Reina pressed her lips together and burrowed her face into Kai's neck to prevent herself from laughing out loud.

"Mhmm. I'm sure you already know – what with your well placed spies, you prick – that I got married. This is my wife, Reina," Kai said good-naturedly. "Reina, meet the second biggest jackass Solitude has to offer."

Falk only sighed wearily. It seemed he was used to this form of abuse. But he did smile pleasantly at her and nodded.

"A pleasure to meet you, my lady."

"The pleasure is all mine," Reina replied with a nod.

"Yes, now that we all know each other, I'll need a room, Flamebeard."

"Excuse me?"

"You aren't fooling a blasted soul, barnacle-breath," Kai returned, sounding impatient. "Everybody knows you've got fucking rooms here. Now, that dance made my wife and I rather... excited, shall we say?" he chuckled and pulled her tighter against him before brushing his lips against her temple.

Reina almost spluttered. Almost.

"And so we need a room," Kai said simply. "And you have the keys. So, hand one over."

The steward looked troubled. Taking a step forward, he lowered his voice and said, "Look, those services have to be paid for in _advance_-"

"Falk," Kai began, cutting off whatever the man had to say. "I have had to risk my arse trying to save the people of this city from an undead former queen who moonlighted as a necromancer. _You_. Owe. _Me_."

_Wow, _Reina thought, glancing appreciatively at the dark haired man. She had not expected him to be so _forceful_. She _liked_ it!

Falk stared at Kai for a good while before reaching into his pockets. "Second floor. Right wing. Fourth corridor. Third room on the left."

He then dropped the key onto Kai's outstretched palm. "Consider us even, Captain."

"Whatever you say, squigglybeard."

As she was led away, Reina couldn't help but be impressed.

"Very smooth," she commented while climbing the winding staircase, taking two steps at a time. "How'd you know that'd work?"

A shrug. "I'm from Riften. Anything you can do, I can do."

Reina had to laugh at that. "Well, if one day you find that you're bored and don't want to be a hunter, you can be sure we'd want someone like you at the Guild."

"Second business proposition tonight," Kai muttered in a monotone. "Aren't I just the popular one."

"Hmm?"

"Ehh, the Dragonborn asked me to join the Companions. I refused."

"So that's what you were talking about?"

"Among other things."

By this time, they had reached the appointed room, and Kai jammed the key into the lock.

_Ah, that reminds me._

She nudged his ribs, smiling slyly. "Getting a bit liberal with the touching and feeling, are we?"

To her bemusement, Kai turned his head to give her an equally amused smile. "Like you said, can't pass up taking a chance on a voluptuous and gorgeous lady like you."

"Careful. I just might _really_ bed you at this rate."

"I'll just charge another thousand Septims if you do," Kai returned and pushed open the door for her.

As tempting as the offer sounded at that point, it was time to do business.

Crossing the threshold, the redhead sighed deeply.

"Okay, Kai-pie, time to part ways," she said and turned her back on him. "Would you be a darling and undo the laces on the back?"

"...why me? Can't you do it yourself?"

"Yes, but don't you want to take off my clothes?"

All she heard was strangled sound followed by Kai plopping down on the bed, muttering about evil redheads.

_Ah, always such a joy to tease~_

Reaching back, she undid the laces and peeled her dress off, revealing the ebony armour of the Nightingales beneath. Reina then draped the dress over a chair and pulled on the gloves which hung from her belt.

"What kind of armour is that?"

Reina smirked as she performed a few squats, warming her body up. "Like what you see, do you?"

"Tch. It's unique is what I meant."

"Like your woman?"

That made Kai smile, though she noticed it didn't reach his eyes. None of his smiles over the past month had.

"Exactly like my woman."

"Mmmm. You'll tell me more about her when I get back," she said while pulling up her face mask. "Now you get some sleep or something. Oh, and bolt the door, yeah?"

Then she pulled on the hood before turning back to open the door-

"Reina?"

She turned to see him on his feet, running his hand through his hair, hesitant. After a moment, he gave her that mischievous half-smirk he reserved only for her.

"Don't get caught."

She chuckled and nodded. "When do I ever?"

Then the Nightingale activated the Shadowcloak and headed out of the room towards Elisif's chambers.

_Now, for the last stone of Barenziah!_

* * *

**Aldis**

Being head of security was no joke. It was on a different level entirely from being Captain of the Guard.

Aldis was tired.

The hours had flown by peacefully enough. He had made the rounds himself, exchanging words with each and every guard and soldier. Nobody had seen anything out of the ordinary.

But if being a part of the old Orchestra had taught him anything, it was that things could go south at any point. He'd had that drilled into him early on. _Never off duty_. Exhaustion was no excuse. He was responsible for lives not his own, and thus he would have to remain vigilant at all times.

_Yeah. Easier said than done._

He was currently absorbed in strolling around the main gates of the Blue Palace, listening to a few of his men talking about the weather.

The immediate area surrounding the front gates contained about fifty soldiers. Enough to stop any invasion in the narrow alley leading up to the main gates.

Looking up, Aldis nodded at an arbalest on the rooftop, receiving a nod in response.

Fog was creeping up slowly, accompanied by a considerable drop in the temperature. The weather had been acting weirdly for a good half hour now.

"Fucking winter," he muttered. Internally, he thanked his Nordic resistance to cold.

And a second later, the arbalest he had nodded to but a short moment ago crashed down on the stone before Aldis's feet with a sickening crunch as bones smashed and bundled together.

"Fucking hell!"

"What the _fuck_ happened?"

The fog intensified around them, almost as if trying to swallow them whole.

"Everybody on alert!" Aldis bellowed, sliding his shield onto his arm and pulling out his mace. But he couldn't even see five feet in front of him.

Instinctively, he started to back up towards his men, who were functioning on muscle memory. "Don't be afraid, men!"

"Ah, but you'd better be," came a voice from somewhere on the other side of the fog. It could've come from anywhere.

_Definitely a male voice._

Aldis swore. "Who are you?! Show yourself!"

And just like that, the fog dissipated, visibility returning to normal. Aldis's eyes grew wide upon seeing the scene laid out before them. Judging from the sounds of numerous breaths being drawn, the reaction was shared.

In front of them stood a black haired Nord man. He was pale, deathly pale. His body was shrouded by a cloak, his expression unreadable.

"You wished to see me. Here I am."

Before Aldis could even form a reply, a crossbowman standing behind him had loosed a bolt directly into the man's chest, followed by others.

The man stood there as six crossbow bolts hit him on various points of his body. Unflinchingly, he pulled them out slowly and let them drop to the floor.

"Impossible," Aldis muttered, wiping his brow. When he had begun sweating, he didn't know. "W-What..."

"V-Vampire!" one of the men wailed, falling to his knees, sobbing. From the stench, Aldis knew that he had lost control of his bowels.

"Indeed," the _creature_ replied, calmly crossing the ten yards that remained between it and Aldis. "Such a perceptive bunch you are."

Readying his mace, Aldis screamed out a final warning. "Stay away, monster! Don't come any closer!"

He saw the thing's eyes take on a bright orange hue, the canines growing more pointed and extending as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Good job, soldiers..." it said as its jaw unhinged, its mouth becoming a gaping chasm of darkness.

Arkay preserve us.

"...now good _night_."

* * *

**Firo**

"Seems a waste, using so much magicka on some worthless humans."

Firo slowly turned to Fura Bloodmouth, who had spoken the words. He then looked down at his feet, at the forty seven unconscious mortals who lay there, dumped unceremoniously over one another.

He had merely collected them from their posts and cast a lingering illusion upon them, putting them to sleep for hours. The outskirts of the Blue Palace were now devoid of security. They – Fura, her assortment of eight well-dressed bandit thralls and he himself – could now enter unopposed.

"Wiser to expend some magicka than lose a few thralls," he answered, "And wiser still to not resort to unnecessary bloodshed and risk being discovered."

Fura huffed and stepped over the puddle of bodies to stand beside Firo before the doors. She was like a bloodthirsty hound, straining against the leash to be let loose upon the target.

"Fura," Firo said to her authoritatively. "Do not stray from the plan, do you understand? Blend in and mingle. Avoid casualties while advancing upon the Queen. It must be a _synchronised_ effort."

"Yes, I get it," she snapped, but composed herself just as quickly. Firo sighed out of his nose and offered his comrade his arm.

"Shall we, then?"

"How gentlemanly," Fura said while rolling her eyes but she linked her arm with his nonetheless.

With that, Firo pushed open the doors and walked right in, as if they were expected all along. The thralls would've been an issue, but Fura made them spread out as soon as they entered and kept them far apart from any mingling. She couldn't concentrate much on anything else as most of her mental faculties were engaged in keeping her pawns moving. And thus it was that Firo was in charge of Fura's movement.

Of course, this meant that Fura couldn't focus on the throng of game all around them, couldn't hear their hearts pumping blood, nor the precious liquid travelling along the length of the body. It was a good thing, too. Firo didn't need Fura to go crazy.

_Not yet, anyway._

There was still some dancing going on, but most people had branched out into little groups, drinking and getting ready for the food to arrive. They were talking about politics, religion, martial aspects... trivial _mortal_ things.

They were lucky, he thought. They didn't know what was brewing over the horizon. Blissfully ignorant of the coming storm. _Just as well_. They could go on with their trivial lives, doing their everyday trivial things. Firo rather wanted to see how they'd react to the coming darkness.

Mortals only found their strength in times of distress. Anytime else, they spent their energies on making life difficult for one another. Pathetic. And yet...

_I look forward to seeing how you all will choose to act this time around._

The High Queen was now talking to an Altmer, who in turn seemed to be introducing her to a few bards.

_Ah well. _

They would wait until after the bards were done to make the Queen's acquaintance.

_Patience_.

* * *

**Aigil**

He stood patiently, hands linked behind his back, as Viarmo introduced each of them to the High Queen with words of praise dropping from his mouth left and right.

Though it would be a lie if he said that he felt no pride in the performance they had put together, it wasn't the reason they were present.

Even as the high elf spoke, some of the Forsworn circled around Elisif, lying in wait to spring into action. It wouldn't be too far off now.

_Everything is going according to plan._

"And this, my lady, is Aigil, a leader among the Breton bards," Viarmo said and he stepped forward, bowing gently.

"You make beautiful music," Elisif commented with a smile. "I thank you for enriching our experience with such a fine performance."

"You're most gracious, your majesty."

"Tell me, how do you wish to be rewarded for your services?"

_And I thought you'd never ask._

"It's simple enough, your majesty," he said with a gentle smile. "Give us the Reach, and we shall be happy."

Stunned silence followed.

"I beg your pardon?" Tullius asked, hand on the hilt of his gladius. Aigil clicked his tongue.

"You are too quick to jump to violence, General," he said while bound swords were conjured and placed on the necks of all nearby soldiers, as well as Viarmo and Elisif. "So much so that I _must_ outdo you."

"Wha-What is the meaning of this?" Viarmo demanded, panicked. "Aigil!"

"It's all very simple, you see," he said and turned to address the now slowly panicking crowd. "Please do not be alarmed, people! Enjoy the food and the wine! Dance and make merry! We are just in the middle of negotiations. There will be no blood drawn, unless our hands are forced. I severely doubt any of you would want that."

The crowd stilled, but slowly moved away to the walls. They were quiet and compliant for the most part.

That went well.

"And now," he turned to face Elisif, and was pleased to see that all hostages had been forced onto their knees and stripped off weapons. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name, as you can no doubt recall, is Aigil, and I am Forsworn. As we all are. And we come to you with a simple proposition – to give the Reach to the rightful owners of the land.

"For twenty-seven years, the Nords have kept us downtrodden. We have been called _two Septims short of a pint of ale_. Affectionately, no doubt. We have endured massacres, outright political and social exclusion, and have been driven to the very fringes of the province. And now we demand equal footing with all the other races inhabiting Skyrim, nay, inhabiting all of Tamriel! And to do that, the first step is to have our own land and for that, we need the Reach."

Aigil wet his lips. "You might ask us why we weren't more diplomatic. Why we didn't ask for an audience with Elisif the _Fair_. Simple really. If we even proclaimed to be Forsworn within the city walls, we would have been showered in arrows and crossbows bolts and hence, this extremist approach will have to suffice." A pause. "So what say you, Nord Queen? Do we have an accord?"

Elisif looked about ready to say yes then and there, but was interrupted when a cone of ice came flying at Aigil's head, only for the man to block it with a ward spell.

"Looks like we weren't the only ones intent on wrecking the party," a Nord woman said as she climbed the steps up to where they were located. "Oops. So much for your _plan_, eh?"

The man following behind her said not a word, only looked slightly amused at the development. Aigil summoned a sword of his own.

"Who are you?"

"Us? We're vampires," the lady said flippantly as a few other warriors, all casting bound weapon spells, appeared behind the duo. "We were here to spread news of impending disaster and suck the High queen dry and blah blah blah, but now this... _this_ is more to my liking!"

It was a stalemate. Both parties were ready to spring into action. Although these so-called vampires were an unaccounted for factor, Aigil was sure they could be bested. He readied a flame spell in his free hand.

The lines had been drawn.

Then an axe came sailing through the air and lodged itself in the back of the head of one of the vampire grunts, taking the Orcish warrior to the ground.

Peering over the shoulders of the vampire duo, Aigil witnessed another person walking up the marble, the double gates open wide behind him. The guests all muttered incomprehensively at the man clad in all white robes, complete with a hood and face mask.

The figure then stopped in front of the two winding staircases and looked around for a while before spreading his hands wide.

"Thank you all for your accepting silence! It means so much to me! I'll try my best to not disappoint you folks," he said as he resumed walking forward, heels clicking against the polished floor. "Ladies and gentlemen, fuck you! The villain has arrived!"


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Expect a long-ass hiatus after this one, people. Life hates me, apparently.**

* * *

**Chapter 25**

**Josak**

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he exclaimed amusedly upon witnessing the Legionnaires all snoring at their respective positions. Not a single one was stirring. "Whaddaya make of this here mess, Nazir?"

His Redguard associate was far more concerned by this development, as any sane assassin would be.

The odd pair were perched atop the now surveillance free rooftop of the Blue Palace. Nazir stroked his beard pensively.

"I don't like this, but you already knew that." He paused. "But this also means that something is off about the ball."

"I was right, wasn't I?" Josak grinned wildly. "Oh the possibilities are endless! There could be blood! There could be gore! Ah, to see the world in a drop of blood..."

Nazir shook his head. "It's risky Josak. Whoever did _that_, had a very specific plan to work towards-"

"Now that I just _have_ to throw a hammer in!"

The Redguard smacked his forehead. Josak reached out and patted his shoulder.

"Cheer up. I wanted this, don't forget that. You just sneak into the wine cellar. When things get louder than what you were expecting, you know what to do."

With a grunt, Nazir scarpered across the roof towards the western face of the palace in hopes of finding an open window. Josak, upon making sure that his partner was well out of sight, pulled up the blue facemask up to his nose before shimmying down the wall to the ground.

Once on firm land, he dusted himself down. He had broken out the white and blue Brotherhood robes he reserved for truly special occasions. He couldn't afford to get _these_ dirty.

_Ah, but blood looks so much prettier on white!_

Josak spent a few seconds slapping a sleeping soldier. To his amusement, he only muttered something about a bat and went right back to sleep.

Hiking his shoulders, Josak relieved the man of his axe. "Pretty sure you ain't gonna be needin' this, random person."

Deeming himself ready for the part, he pulled the hood over his head and strode straight into the palace as if he owned the place.

Josak was expecting people to spring apart and make way for him. That was the welcome he had been dreaming about for a few days. Then he would grab that Forsworn girl by the throat, snap her neck, drink a glass of wine, and walk back out.

Instead he saw people clustered along the ballroom walls, an empty dance floor, and a cluster of gods-ugly bastards having an argument on the stairs.

The corner of the Nord's mouth twitched.

He didn't mind people getting into arguments, really. As far as he was concerned, they could do whatever the fuck they wanted.

But how dare the people not even _look_ at him?!

_The nerve of these high-class sons of hagravens socialites!_

This meant he would have to attract attention to himself. That was something he was relatively good at.

_How, though?_

Everybody was focused on the two factions now getting ready to tear the other's throat out. The one group was dressed up as bards, clearly the Forsworn. The other was dressed in some type of regal-looking fancy ass black robes.

Giving the axe in his hand a few twists from the wrist, Josak grinned. What better way to garner attention than to throw an axe at someone?

Scanning the warriors on the black clad side, he found that none of them wore helmets. Not that he would expect anybody to wear helmets to a ball. Smirking, he narrowed his targets down to two: a red-haired Dunmer and a bald Orc.

_Heh. Bald bastard. I hate bald bastards._

With a twist of his wrist, Josak spun the axe before hurling it with all the power his shoulder could afford. It sailed through the air and embedded itself into the back of the Orc's head, taking him down to the shiny marble floor and eliciting a collective gasp from everybody.

_Shoulda worn a helmet, ya skeever fried fuck._

And suddenly every eye was on him. Even the Forsworn and whoever the black-clad fucktrumpets were. _The more the fucking merrier_.

Josak resumed his walk in a calm manner, containing the nervous energy coursing through every fibre of his being masterfully. He stopped before the twin winding staircases and spread his arms wide, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_What's a grand entrance without a grand speech?_

"Thank you all for your accepting silence! It means so much to me! I'll try my best to not disappoint you folks," he said as he continued forward, heels clicking against the polished floor. "Ladies and gentlemen, fuck you! The villain has arrived!"

That felt damn good to say. It felt even better to dodge the fireball aimed at his face by a Forsworn woman.

"Sassy!" he grinned as the mates of the downed Orc turned towards him. It was with great interest that he noted that the body of the slain Orc was slowly dissolving into vapour, leaving behind a purple-tinted powder. "And _that's_ just fucked up."

And then the _real_ fighting started.

The seven cronies advanced slowly, cautiously, leaving the two regal looking Nords to deal with the Forsworn on their own. Josak clicked his tongue. He would have to be done with these idiots first before seeking out the lovely Forsworn known as Casair.

He gently pulled out the Blade of Woe from his left sleeve and held it in an icepick grip, point facing downwards, and grinned. "'Tis a ball, folks! Be a shame if we didn't make merry!"

The first one to charge at him was the Dunmer, stretching his arm out to cast a spell. Josak stabbed him through the palm before his opponent to complete the muttered incantation, instead giving way to a scream. Pulling out the dagger from the punctured palm, the assassin then took a step forward and swept the dagger across the man's throat, silencing the scream.

Grabbing the choking Dunmer by the arm, Josak flung him towards the Khajiit preparing to unsheathe his sword. The action sent both offenders to the floor and they rolled down the stairs together.

"Such is love," Josak said with a chuckle. "Till stairs do you part. Whoa there, buddy-boy!"

This was directed at a Nord who swung her sword at his face, causing him to weave and duck. While down, Josak drove his dagger in between her legs and then rose, lifting the girl with some effort and sending her toppling over the railing of the stairs. There was a short scream followed by a loud crunch as marble met neck, snapping the latter. Josak whistled.

The Khajiit leapt up the stairs now, covered in purple dust, claws shining. Josak kicked him down the stairs again, and sidestepped the wide, but powerful swings of a battleaxe wielding Imperial. The assassin dodged the next swing, hooked the man's wrist with his dagger and pushed down on the back of the man's hand with his own palm, folding the wrist, slicing it open and disarming him at the same time. Josak then disengaged, before quickly stabbing the man's ear thrice in quick succession, the curved blade entering the ear and exiting out of the eyeball. Josak then threw his newest victim down at the Khajjiit who made a motion to rise, sending him tumbling down again.

The one positive to fighting people on a staircase was that they could only come one at a time. _It's an advantage I'm willing to take_, Josak thought as he stooped to pick up the axe of his recently deceased opponent, switching the dagger to his right hand.

Twirling the weapon, the assassin readied himself for the final four.

_Three in front. One on the rear._

The three in front charged like soldiers, aiming to overwhelm. The one leading the charge was another Nord, this one a male. He had just started lifting his sword when Josak swung the axe, hooking it out of the way and following up with a slash of the dagger in the same arc, but a tad higher, cutting open the man's throat.

As the Nord fell choking his lifeblood out of the new hole Josak had made for him, his compatriot, a Breton, charged through and lunged with his short sword. Josak spun on the heel of his right boot, twisting his body out of the way and jamming the dagger into the base of the Breton's skull; he turned to purple dust even before he hit the stairs.

The last one was a Redguard, and before he could pounce with his scimitar, Josak threw the axe at him, splitting his forehead and part of his brain in two. The assassin couldn't stop to appreciate his handiwork, however, as he felt another presence close in from behind with great speed. No sooner had he ducked did the Khajiit fly over his head and land a couple of stairs before him.

Josak smirked and brought the dagger back to his right hand. "Here, kitty kitty..."

And with a feral snarl, the catman ran at him, claws shimmering in the light. Josak bobbed his head under a horizontal swipe aimed at his face and got caught by a knee to the chin followed by a swift hook to the left cheek, sending him reeling back down a step or two. Using his free hand to rub his chin, Josak shook his head in an attempt to wipe away the stars clouding his vision.

He recovered just in time to see another straight right aimed at his face. Josak blocked it with his left shoulder, not having much time to do anything else. The Khajiit purred in displeasure and was about to launch into another offensive flurry, but the assassin promptly stepped on his toes with the heel of his boot, hard enough to flatten a toe. The momentary delay on the part of the Khajiit where he hissed in pain was enough for Josak to drive the dagger halfway into the Khajiit's forehead.

"Poor kitty," Josak muttered as the Khajiit also turned into purple powder. Behind him, some guy was shouting out instructions about evacuating the premises. Fireballs and ice spikes were flying randomly everywhere and Josak climbed the stairs, heading straight for the main course.

_Now where is that lovely Forsworn girl..._

Not that it would be easy to find her. The Forsworn were currently engaged with the handful of remaining Legion soldiers who were acting as Elisif's bodyguards and then there were the self-proclaimed vampires and some form of weird, mangled dogs with red eyes. It was a free for all; everybody was trying to kill everybody else.

Most other people would term the situation as _pandemonium_. But not Josak. To him, this was paradise.

He saw a short haired brunette get bashed by one of the Imperial soldier's shields and stagger towards him. Josak closed the gap and drove the Blade of Woe hilt deeply in between her shoulder blades. Then he gripped the girl's hair and pulled it back to see her face.

"Casair?" he asked aloud, hopeful, but then sighed. "Wrong address. That one had better jigglejogglers. This one is all but flat. Ah well."

He gave the dagger a sharp twist and pulled it out, letting the girl fall to the well-polished marble floor, and stepped around her as she bled to death.

Neither side was holding up very well. The soldiers Josak had no interest in, and didn't he really care if Elisif died. He scanned the scene for the Casair girl, first among the dead bodies. Two-thirds of the Forsworn forces lay dead, along with almost half of the Legion soldiers. The vampire woman was currently occupied in sinking her teeth into one of these dead bodies while the man was raising the dead.

"Why is everything about vampires so fucking creepy?" Josak asked himself while he aimed a kick at one of the weird undead mutts, sending it flying over the railing and down the stairs. "Should've known better than to make a meal outta me, bitch."

"And who're you supposed to be?"

Josak swivelled around to find the vampire lady was addressing him. He grinned.

"A secret admirer. I just love the way the blood rolls down your lips and along that beautiful skin of your throat to your collarbone," he said. "I would marry you in a heartbeat and make sweet love to you till you fell head over heels in love with me, but alas, my family will never approve of a vampire bride. Quite the dilemma our love is faced with, wouldn't you agree, my lady?"

Apparently, she had a very bad sense of humour and snarled at him, exposing bloodied canines. Her gums were blackened and withdrawn, exposing more of her fangs. Josak would've been fazed had it not been for the fact that Babette had done the same thing to scare him at night ever since he was a prepubescent teenager. Instead, he drove his fist into her mouth, sending her stumbling backwards, hand covering her mouth.

"I accept your hard love!" the assassin proclaimed and was about to charge her, but then stopped.

A blade impaled the retreating vampire lady from the back, driven in hilt deep. It protruded from her solar plexus, and Josak observed with some disappointment the look of surprise etched on the vampire's face as the sword was pulled out of her and she was kicked to the marble floor, falling on her face.

However, this exposed the person who had done the deed.

It was a girl with short dark brown hair. Her uniform was smattered with blood and gore; even her face and hair were caked in the stuff. The blood mask really brought out her radiant golden eyes.

"Finally decided to meet me face to face, huh?" she spat at him, pointing the tip of the bloody gladius she had robbed off a Legionnaire at his face.

_So defiant. So beautiful._

Josak shook his head. "You're pretty rude. You just took away what could've been my opportunity to get a pet and kill her over and over and over and bathe in her blood. You make a habit of stealing my kills, don't you, _Casair_?"

He rolled his wrist. She lifted her chin slightly.

Then an explosion rocked the Palace to its foundations.

* * *

**Reina**

The redhead was having a hard time trying not to giggle childishly at all the passionate and hungry sounds emanating from almost every room along the hallway. Part of her wanted to take a quick peek through the keyhole to see _exactly_ what was happening, but it was with sheer force of will that she tore herself away from her impulses to act on her not so nice thoughts.

She figured Elisif's room would be free of people engaging in coitus, at least.

It felt somewhat uncanny to be actually walking down the carpeted halls of the Blue Palace, cloaked in Nocturnal's shadows, on her way to steal a levitating ruby from the room of the High Queen of Skyrim.

The planning required for this particular heist had been jarring. It'd all started when Brynjolf had mentioned to her the reappearance of Kai in Riften in relation to some man-eater. It was a big gamble, finding him, getting him to come to Riften... there was absolutely no guarantee that things would have happened in quite the same way otherwise. Breaking into the Palace was always an option, but having freedom of entrance was always preferred.

Then there was the drafting of the plans with Footpad, the mysterious benefactor to all thieves. It was Footpad who had provided her with the architectural plans of the Blue Palace, and even the location of a few stones of Barenziah. She had paid for the services, of course, but this had only strengthened her resolve to find out who this Footpad person really was. Some part of her was suspicious they were affiliated with the Thalmor, but then again, both Mercer and Gallus before him were clients of the Footpad.

_Doesn't make sense to distrust this person when my predecessors clearly didn't. _

Making a right turn, Reina calmly passed by a maid who was muttering about skeevers in the wine cellar and the disappearance of cheese wheels and how the Daedra were taking Nirn to Oblivion.

The thief smirked. _Oh honey, if only you knew_.

The hallway she had just entered was quiet, with only a few muffled _ooh_s and _aah_s wafting in from _Coitus Lane_. Reina stopped and stepped closer to the wall. The last turn which she had taken had landed her in the hallway where the High Queen's bedchambers were supposed to be. Making her way to the other end, she passed three rooms in turn and sighed. _I wish I had the time to take a look at what you lovelies have stored inside..._

At the end of the hallway, there was another passage to the right, leading to a room with decorated double doors. Some effort had been made to make it plainer, but there was no question about it: this was Elisif's room.

Disengaging Nocturnal's shadowcloak, the thief crouched before the doors, taking care to stay a couple of feet away. Many a time, people applied rune spells to the inside of their doors in order to blast away any thieves who could get past the lock. Elisif probably wasn't _that_ paranoid, but she _did_ keep a court mage, and Reina was not one to take a chance.

From her belt, she pulled out a clasped roll of leather, set in on the floor and unrolled it. Stitched into the leather were cloth loops, acting as holsters for seven lockpicks—two of which were copper—and some steel wire. This was her lockpicking kit. Every infiltrator worth their salt kept one.

She then brought her face close to the lock and frowned. It was a simple enough design on the surface, but to her, it spilled its secrets. The keyhole itself had a tilt of about seven degrees, designed to break regular lockpicks upon being forced inside. These usually came with different springs being manufactured by different locksmiths, giving every individual spring a different tick.

Quelling her sudden exasperation with a few deep breaths, the redhead lit a small flame in the palm of her hand before holding it as close as she could to the keyhole without burning down the door. She kept her ears on alert for sounds that could even be _mistaken_ for a footstep while she counted slowly to a hundred and put the flame out.

The flame would cause the springs to heat up and lose their individuality, thereby – _hopefully_ – lining them up enough for anybody with some skill to be able to pick them.

Pulling out the shiv and a copper lockpick from her kit, she placed them in front of the door. ***Copper picks bent easily, which was necessary when it came to fitting them into an angled keyhole. They also broke easily, so she would have to be careful.

Reina clenched and unclenched her fingers repeatedly while she counted to twenty, in preparation for what was to come.

Magic wasn't her strong suit by any means. She couldn't throw fireballs out of her eyes or lightning from her arse, but she could so _some_ things. Little things almost useless to most others, but very helpful to her in certain situations.

_Situations like these._

Weaving the fingers of her right palm, Reina waited until the copper lockpick was alight with a faint golden glow. Then sucking in a breath, she levitated it and very, very slowly, pushed it into the keyhole. She then repeated the process with the shiv, adjusting it with her left hand as her right worked the lockpick.

It was tedious and time consuming but it was safe. If a rune did go off after the door was opened, at least it wouldn't take her hands with it.

A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead and dropped onto her face mask.

_Fifty-nine, sixty..._

A small click. One of the levers had given way.

_Sixty-seven, sixty-eight..._

A second click. Reina held her breath.

_Sixty-nine..._

A muffled snap. The lockpick broke. Reina gulped.

She pulled the shiv out and let it hover in the air while the broken lockpick floated into her palm and she placed it back in the kit. Pulling out the only remaining copper pick, she sent it back into the keyhole and jammed the shiv in a little too forcefully out of frustration.

_Eighty-two, eighty-three..._

_I don't need to rush_, she told herself even as another gear shifted with a click.

Final click, the lock opened.

_Eighty-seven. Eight counts faster than my last best time. Heh. Good going, girl._

The shiv and the lockpick came floating back into her grasp and she tucked them back into her kit before rolling it back up and pushing in into her belt. Then with a deep breath, she sent a wave of telekinetic force wafting towards the door, pushing it open.

Nothing happened. No explosions. No runes.

Reina let out her breath and rose to her feet. She crossed the threshold and with another controlled blast of telekinetic force closed the double doors. Now inside, she let her shoulders relax, ridding her body of the stiff tension that had seized her through the lockpicking process.

Elisif's room was large and spacious, as was expected. Directly in front of her stood a fancy four posted double bed, no doubt a reminder of the time she and Torryg were married. Reina remembered having read about the former High King of Skyrim. He was apparently quite popular with the people. Then Ulfric came and Shouted the shit out of him.

Losing a lover was always a difficult ordeal. Elisif had been in mourning for nearly a year. _Me too..._

Sighing through her nose, the Nightingale walked up to the bed and looked down at the end table. That was where the item was supposed to be.

Gripping the handle lightly, she pulled out the drawer.

It contained a quill, an inkpot, a journal and a small black box. Reina picked up this box and flipped it open. A satisfied smile etched itself onto her covered face.

Inside the box was a diamond shaped stone half the size of her fist. It was blood red, glowed brightly and levitated freely inside its case. Taking a moment to carefully look it over, she snapped the box closed and placed it inside a pouch on her belt. She had seen twenty-three of the things before.

_But now the job is done. A small celebration at the Queen's expense won't hurt much._

Plopping down on the royal bed, Reina raised her hand in a mock toast.

"To your health, your highness," she said before collapsing onto her back unceremoniously. "And mine."

_Bloody Oblivion, the bed's soft! Almost makes me want to jump on it._

It was what the kids did back at Honorhall when they couldn't sleep. Or when Grelod was away. The poncy old cow was a bitch through and through. Reina was thankful to whomever had sliced off her face. At least the kids now were under the direct supervision of Constance. Reina had known that one for damn near twenty years and she loved her dearly.

But they'd also given her a hard time. Constance had nearly gotten a heart attack when Reina announced to her that she had married Kai. But the woman had also been happy. It would hard explaining to her that it was just a sham to get into the Palace.

_But that's all done now. And that means this is all over._

Indeed it was over. Reina folded her hands behind her head and hummed.

Regardless of the circumstances, she had enjoyed her stay at Proudspire Manor very much. Two months was a long enough time to get accustomed to a certain way of life and the people. She would miss Ghorbash's well-timed sarcastic grunts, and Omiq's recounts of his travels. The fact that both of them shared a passion for making Kai's life difficult was an added bonus.

And that brought her to The Pie himself, the man whom she had blackmailed into marriage.

Reina confessed that it was underhanded and she had expected some backlash down the line, but their little falling out had had a deeper effect on her than she had imagined. In retrospect, however, their little falling out had been a blessing in disguise. Kai was the first friend she had made outside of her family, and that incident had renewed and somewhat strengthened that bond. It was an odd thing, too. They wouldn't see each other for years, but when they met, they'd talk and bicker like they'd always did. _Some habits die hard_.

Though she was filled with a sense of relief that half of her job was done, part of her wasn't very attracted to the idea of leaving him again. Saying goodbye would be difficult, since she knew he wouldn't visit. He hated Riften, after all. She knew they'd lose touch... and it'd be harder this time around, after having lived with the man for two months and slept on the same bed and ate at the same table as him.

_Unless I can make him promise. He always keeps his promises. Well. Except that one time, I suppose..._

Shaking off these thoughts, the redhead sat up again. Her husband was probably lounging around in bed, thoroughly bored with inactivity and pissed at all the lovemaking sounds around him, cursing at everything that came to his mind. The image brought a smile to her face and rose to her feet.

_What kind of a wife am I, to leave my hubby dearest all alone in bed? Might as well enjoy our last night together._

Reina reengaged the shadowcloak and walked out of the High Queen's room, a little bounce in her step.

Before she could reach the balcony overlooking the main hall, the floor beneath her quaked and a sound akin to a thousand bolts of lightning striking simultaneously threatened to rip her eardrums asunder.

The girl hastily took a knee. _What in the blue blazes-_

Another explosion, similar to the first but with greater magnitude, shook the entire palace. The noise made Reina's ears ring and she placed her hands over her ears. _This one was bloody closer!_

Her chest seized as soon as she filled her lungs, and she coughed as hard as she could, the effort rattling her spine.

_Smoke?!_

Covering her face with a hand, the girl rose to her feet and approached the balcony, but all she could see was grey plume of smoke, completely cutting off her vision. Instead, it made her eyes water and she blinked reflexively.

_Which fucking imbecile decided to have a campfire while I was gon-_

Before she could complete her thoughts, she felt a hand grab a hold of her bicep and yank her away from the ledge. Reina yelped in surprise, unable to discern the figure of whomever had her in their grasp, so thick was the smoke by then.

_How in the great bloody fuck did you know I was here?!_

Reina was busy coughing her lungs out, so the reason behind being dragged back to the Queen's room by some random person was the furthest thing from her mind.

The smoke hadn't yet made it into the room, as she found when she was thrust inside. The sound of the door being closed and latched followed. Her eyes burned less now, and that gave her pause to think.

_Who_-

"You can turn off the invisibility thing you have going on over there. I can hear your coughing regardless."

_Kai_.

Heaving a relieved sigh, the redhead disengaged the shadowcloak and walked over to the bed – purely out of memory – and sat down on it again. "Water-"

She felt something press against her chest, and then a gentle warmth enveloped her. Mere moments later, the burning in her chest subsided considerably, then completely, along with the dryness in her throat.

Opening her eyes, she finally got a complete view of her surroundings. She was back in the Queen's room, alright. The air was not as heavy as it was outside, but it was getting there slowly. She had Kai kneeling in front of her. He had her right hand in his left, fingers pressed against her pulse. His right palm was placed on her chest, squarely on her sternum and was making a clearly discernible effort to avoid contact with her breasts. It was only then did she realise that his palm was covered in a faint white glow.

_Healing magic?_

"I won't mind if you decide to grope," she croaked feebly and coughed again, earning a snort from Kai which was equal parts amused and irritated.

"You haven't grown enough stuff for me to able to grope, harlot."

_Ouch_.

"Either way, you're lucky you weren't exposed to the smoke overmuch," Kai continued. "You should hear the sons of bitches who were caught by the vibrations mid-fornication. Heh. Ran half naked down the stairs into the smoke. Full nude in some cases."

"You enjoyed the view, then?"

"Uh-huh, yeah. Wish I could wipe my memory somehow. Ugh."

"So what exactly happened?"

"No bloody clue."

_Brilliant_. With her free hand, Reina pulled her hood back. When Kai was done pumping healing magicks into her and shuffled away, she found her ball gown on the floor by her feet, covered by a thin layer of soot.

"Did you pull this out of the room with you?" she asked with some incredulity which soon turned to astonishment when Kai nodded. "But _why_?"

A shrug. "You looked good in it. Thought it'd be a waste to have it burn needlessly."

She gawked at him wordlessly as he went about opening all of the numerous dressers in the room. "You pick some really royal fucking times to flirt, you know that?"

"I wasn't... ugh." Kai smacked his forehead. "Just take the damn dress and come over here."

Still unsure of what exactly he was doing, but not having a choice, she picked up her dress and slung it over her shoulder before getting up and heading over to where Kai stood, emptying the contents of a dresser. "What-"

With a grunt of triumph, and a show of convulsive strength, Kai ripped open the floorboard of the dresser, exposing a step ladder that descended into darkness. The man jerked his chin towards the ladder. "Exit," he said.

Reina stared at the chasm and then back at Kai, questioningly. "You knew this was here?"

"Yeah. Used it before," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "It was constructed during the Wolf Queen's time. It's a tunnel that leads straight from here to the city. Originally, it led to the Mages Guild building, which is today the Winking Skeever."

"How-"

She heard him growl as he gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Doesn't matter. You've got what you came for, right?"

She nodded.

"Good. Then go." He paused. "Reina, the Blue Palace is burning down. We don't have much time. The Dragonborn is taking after evacuations, last I heard. This is your only way to escape the city now that the guards are busy with... whatever it is that's happening down there now."

Reina glared at him "_My_ only way of escape?" she asked. When he didn't respond, she added, "You aren't coming, are you?"

Kai shook his head. "Suffice it to say that the last time I saw something burn, I couldn't do a bloody thing. I don't like being helpless. I want to rectify that this time around."

"You yourself said that the Palace is burning down! What can you possibly do?" Again, she didn't get a response. "You're crazy."

Smoke had started seeping into the room in earnest now. Reina felt her eyes stinging again.

"Go down, turn around and keep going straight until you run into an old, musty door. Open it, and you'll emerge hidden by a clump of rocks. Get out of the city and head to Riften." Kai said, leading her towards the ladder.

"But what about _you_, fuckdammit?!"

"Ehh. I've survived worse. 'Tis but a breeze," he said lightly. Upon catching her annoyed expression, he chuckled. "Touched as I am by your concern, we have to part ways here. Just because I left the Legion doesn't mean the Legion has left me."

_Fuck this smug bastard._

Clenching her fists to stop her fingers from quivering out of fear for him, Reina bit the inside of her cheek. "Fine," she chewed out. "Fine. Go play soldier and get burnt to a crisp for all I care."

_Just don't die._

"Yeah, yeah. Save the tearful goodbyes for when we meet again," Kai said with a smirk as he stepped away from her. "Now go."

"Promise me you'll write to me to say you're alive."

"Rein-"

"_Promise me_."

Kai let out an irritated sigh. "I promise. Now go. Please."

She stood there for a few moments more, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. The smoke really was making everything a lot harder. Then with a curt nod, she turned and jumped into the darkness.

After a fall which lasted all of three or four counts, her feet touched soft earth and she bent her knees and rolled forward, just like she had been trained to do. She immediately looked up and saw Kai's face peering into the darkness. She doubted he could see her, but he did nod once before disappearing from view.

Heaving deep sigh, Reina stood and again picked up her now slightly ruined dress. She wiped off the worst of the dirt and soot, and checked her belt pouch, making sure the stone of Barenziah was still safely tucked away in its pouch. Satisfied that it was still there, she briefly glanced up before shaking her head and turning her gaze forward.

_Walk straight till you hit a door_, Kai had said. He'd made sure to keep his instructions simple in a time of duress, so that she could understand despite her panic. She wondered if that was his training shining through.

The tunnel was old. It was pitch-black and the air was musty. Reina kept a hand on the wall, which was mostly just soil, with a few wooden beams holding up the structure at equidistant intervals. Perhaps it was an emergency escape built for this exact purpose? Reina wondered who all had walked this path before her. _Royalty perhaps_. And a certain jackass of a hunter.

The darkness didn't bother her overmuch. If anything, Reina welcomed the soothing cool the darkness provided. She had gotten used to it in her line of work. What bothered her was Kai staying behind to do whatever it was he wanted to do.

"Always was a rubberneck," she muttered. "Never could resist knowing about the details every time shit went sideways."

_Hopeless. Utterly hopeless._

She hoped he'd make it out unscathed. He'd made a promise, after all.

She soon lost track of time as she walked. There were no sounds in the tunnel, save for her own breathing. The path was initially sloped downwards, but had levelled out soon enough. It felt like some time before she felt it give way to a gentle incline.

_Great. About bloomin' time I hit the surface._

Soon enough, Reina reached what was a circular wooden door, almost like the top of a barrel. She could hear distant, muffled shouting and footsteps on the other side.

Her fingers traced the surface of the moulded wood, soon brushing against the hinges on the right side. She kicked it lightly and heard a metallic jingle, presumably that of a hanging lock. Using the timber as a source, she groped for it until she had the thing in her grasp.

Squinting in the darkness, she could make out a fairly rough outline of the thing. It was big, easily larger than her fist, but also very old. _And_ completely rusted.

There wasn't enough light to work with her picks. The only option was to break it open.

Reina took three steps back and took a deep breath. Then she covered the distance quickly and shot out her right foot, her heel smashing into the lock, carrying all the energy of her moving form and projecting it onto the battered lock, breaking it with ease.

Unlatching it, Reina pushed the small door open and crawled outside and shut the door behind her. Then she sat down on the ground and filled her lungs with the cool, fresh night air.

True to Kai's word, Reina found herself surrounded by rocks. Peering over them, she found the Winking Skeever's rear end to her right. She chuckled to herself in relief.

She then pulled her hood back in place and reactivated the shadowcloak before stepping out from behind the clump of rocks and heading towards the deserted streets of Solitude. Most of the people would have gathered near the Blue Palace. At that thought, she stopped and turned back. Not that she could see the castle, but she could definitely make out the bright orange glow in the not so distant sky, marking the scene.

Reina wasn't sure what it was that had happened, but she knew she'd be hearing about it often enough. _If not from Kai, then from others_.

Muttering a little prayer to Mara to keep the idiot safe, the redhead turned and walked towards the city gates, trying to push down her rising concern for her husband.

_He'll pull himself out of Oblivion to annul the marriage_, she told herself by way of reassurance. _I'll definitely be seeing him again. Definitely._

A cold breeze picked up. There would be a storm soon.

* * *

**Casair**

The fighting had been short, but fierce. They had gone in expecting to face little to no resistance. Instead, they got a couple of immortal vampires and an annoying super assassin who single-handedly turned the followers of the two vampires to dust. _Literally_.

But the vampires themselves just wouldn't go down. On top of that, Elisif's bodyguards had used this as a distraction and whisked their queen away to safety. On some level, Casair felt good knowing that Elisif was safe. She had never wanted to antagonise the High Queen. Ailig's plan had been crazy from the start.

But on the other hand, she didn't even know whether he was alive.

The vampires had ploughed through the Forsworn numbers with embarrassing ease. They weren't equipped to handle vampires, of course, but she would've thought that they would have at _least_ stood a chance against the bloodsuckers!

That's why it felt so _fucking_ satisfying to bury her borrowed gladius into the bitch's back and kick her off of it. The way her head bounced off the floor with a muffled thud was beautiful. _Probably better than all the music we make._

And that left her staring down the assassin she had been dogged by for months. The same asshole that had tracked her to the Bards College – how, she did not know – and even effortlessly took down five or six grunts all by himself. He was less a human and more a force of nature.

Every instinct told Casair to run for it, that at this moment, this was the most unsafe way and place to engage an assassin.

_How far will I run, though? I went from the Rift to the Reach and then up to Haafingar and he still found me. No, whatever is going to happen, must happen now!_

Casair rolled her wrist and spun the shortsword. Everything the fucker was saying was only fuel on his funeral pyre.

But that plan went to shit as soon as the ground under her feet rattled, no doubt resulting from the somewhat muffled explosion... somewhere.

"Huh," the assassin remarked, idly tapping his chin with a finger. "Too early, Nazir. Ah well." He hiked his shoulders and crouched, placing his hands behind his head. "Ya might wanna imitate me, dove."

_What. Dove. What?_

The second explosion came before she could even yelp, and Casair went down on her bottom, her brain rattled by the thundering of whatever had exploded. It seemed like the Blue Palace was dancing a jig.

The smoke came swiftly after that, blinding her. Casair closed her eyes as tightly as she could and covered her face with her hand, letting the gladius drop to the floor.

She heard the remaining people screaming, running for the door. True, most had cleared out when the fighting had started, but-

"Well, well. What have we here?"

A hand gripped her shoulder from behind while the fingers of the other squeezed her cheeks.

"If you're going to run a vampire through the chest, be sure to finish the job," a sickly sweet voice whispered into her ear, and the muscles all over Casair's body relaxed as if under a spell. "Because if you don't, we tend to bite back."

Closed lips were pressed to the throbbing vein on the crook of her neck. _Lips as cold as ice_, the Breton thought. It felt as if her body was not her own anymore, as if her mind and body wanted different things. _If this is how vampires played with their prey…_

"But for destroying my dress, you don't deserve that privilege."

Instead of teeth penetrating her skin, the fingers released her cheeks and Casair felt the fingernails rake through her throat, opening her up horizontally. She gasped, but it only came out as a gurgle as her blood pushed itself out of her mouth.

_So this is what dying feels like._

Everything slowed down for her after that. She felt the vampire grip her by the shoulders and lift her up so that her feet no longer touched the floor. Then came the feeling of freely flying through the air as she was hurled across the building and over the railing, her body only descending after she had crossed the staircases.

Her back collided against something wooden, breaking it into splinters. _A door_. Then she slammed into something much harder, her head snapping back and smacking against it. She slid down the surface and landed on her rump, unsure of where she was. The only thing she could notice was that it was dark. And cold.

Casair slid down onto her side, clutching at her throat, the warm liquid escaping between her fingers. She tried to cast a healing spell, but her memory was starting to go hazy, along with her vision. Maybe it was the smoke. _Maybe it's the smoke..._

_I hope the people got out and Ailig too maybe gods so cold and dark _

Defeated, she closed her eyes, accepting her fate, oblivious to the slowly spreading fire. She was unconscious before she could hear the footsteps approaching her, or the cat-like grey eyes looking down at her, a spark of little disguised curiosity and amusement flickering between them.

* * *

**Kai**

Kai had seen some shit in his life. Nobody who knew him would be able to disprove that. From mating dragons to giant bats, and from blackmail marriages to undead necromantic former queens, he'd seen his fair share of weird shit.

Now, he could add acts of terrorism to that illustrious list.

_What a time to be alive._

After Reina had become one with the darkness of the tunnel, he had replaced the floorboard and closed the dresser. The clothes he didn't give a shit about. Heck, he didn't give a fuck about most of the people. The only one who he did give a toss about, he had just helped escape.

It was a scary thought, giving a skeever's arse about Reina and her well-being. _Something I should make an effort to forget._

Exiting Elisif's bedchambers, he made his way down the smoke filled hallway and peered over the railing.

The curtains and the carpets had caught on fire, and the palace had a _lot_ of those, spreading to the wooden beams of the ceiling. _Be that as it may, just some carpets and curtains can't account for this much smoke_. Placing a hand on the railing, Kai lifted his legs over the ledge and fell to the marble dance floor, landing on the balls of his feet and bending his knees to absorb the impact.

The dance floor, where he had been roped into twirling with Reina not even an hour ago was now filled with the dead bodies of what looked like bards and legion soldiers.

_Dead bodies, charred beyond recognition. The foul stench of burning bodies. Howls of pain. People slowly burning to death. The unholy roar of the winged monstrosity circling overhead._

Kai made the mistake of inhaling sharply, and paid for it with heavy coughing and a burning windpipe. Even through it, a dry chuckle escaped him as he rose to his feet and covered his mouth and nose with his fancy tunic.

_The ghost of Helgen. Never lets go._

In many ways, this mirrored that. Steadily growing fires which cast an orange-ish gleam on everything, heavy smoke, dead people. The only thing different was that Kai wasn't helpless to act.

_Not this time._

"Everybody's stealing my kills! What is the fuckin' matter with you all? Are you tryna put a poor old assassin outta work or something?"

"Bah! Cease your whining, you petulant fool. She ruined my dress!"

Turning towards the twin spiral staircases, Kai saw what looked like a guy dressed in all white, and a woman in all black caught in a verbal duel, even though they were armed with a dagger and a weird looking crimson spell respectively.

"Hey, fartnuggets," Kai called out, trying to get their attention despite the smoke muffling his voice. "In case you didn't realise, the place is burning down. You might wanna move out. Unless you wanna be cooked rare, of course."

The man in white had a hood and facemask on, so it was hard to gauge the reaction, but he did look towards him. The woman on the other hand snarled. Kai stopped at the bottom of the steps for a bit before he took stairs one at a time. The woman kept looking between him and the man in white. The latter, however, was looking straight at him. Kai found that a little disconcerting, so instead, he focused on the woman.

_Orange eyes. Crimson spells. A face too pale to be healthy. Canines too long to be considered normal. Vampire._

"Were you the one who blew this place halfway to Oblivion?" Kai asked her. In response, the woman scoffed and flipped her hair, annoyed.

"I have no time for inquisition."

So saying, her body exploded into a mass of black smoke, which then morphed into a colony of bats, the screeching creatures sweeping along the floor and going straight out of the main doors into the night sky.

_Talk about dramatic escapes._

"Probably had skin problems, what with fires raging all around," the man clad in white said, still looking straight at him. Kai couldn't help the snort which escaped him.

The fires had stopped spreading, finding nothing more to burn. At least where they were. The only concern Kai had was wooden beams falling from above. Even the smoke had lost its intensity to an extent.

"And if you're still looking for the person who blew the place halfway to Oblivion, well, you've found him. Congratulations."

"You did all this?" Kai said, incredulously.

"Well, no. I had it done," the man said as he started to walk in a circle to his right. Kai, in turn, circled him. "In case you were wondering, both the forsworn and the vampires wanted something to do with Elisif. Me, I just came here to kill one person. All this," he pointed at the fires still burning around them, "are the results of fire runes. My associate and I helped to haul in all the liquor. And we marked every wall, every door and every corridor with runes in case things get awry. I needed an escape route, of course."

"All this just for one target? Knowing you could kill countless others?"

"Yes. Who the vampire killed for me, I'm sorry to say. I wanted to kill that one myself. But," he clicked his tongue. "But _you_ came along. You. Of all the people in Tamriel. Who would've thought? It's like some old prophecy almost. Intertwined fates, as they say. Destiny. Because you, you're someone I _promised_ to kill! How ironic that when we do cross paths, _you_... you of all people talk to _me_ about having people caught in the crossfires? After what you did at the Argonian Assemblage during the Civil War? Or the Imperial re-taking of Markarth? Oh the hypocrisy!"

Kai stopped completely, feet refusing to move. The stranger stopped directly opposite him, his back to the staircases. "Who are you?" Kai asked.

"And here I thought you'd recognise me by voice," he chuckled and then pulled his facemask down and pushed his hood back. "How about now? Recall my likeness?"

The man was a Nord. Orange hair. Brown eyes. Kai really couldn't place this fucker. "Do I know you?"

The self-proclaimed assassin placed a hand over his heart dramatically, just as a burning beam of wood fell from the ceiling behind Kai and, judging from the noise, completely crushed Elisif's throne.

"You wound me with your words, Captain," he said, causing Kai to clench his jaw. "But I suppose it has been two years. A long time. You may have forgotten me, but I... I have not forgotten you."

So this was probably a fellow participant in the civil war. Kai opened his mouth to address him-

"WULD!"

-but was interrupted when the Dragonborn chose that exact same moment to magically appear at the foot of the stairs.

"I, uh, just came to make sure whether there were other people trapped inside?" the blond said, ending his sentence in a question when he found himself at the receiving end of the combined glares of two former soldiers.

Kai took this opportunity to address the Dragonborn. "Don't let this one escape," he said, jerking his chin towards the assassin. "He's the one who started the fires."

"A brilliant piece of work, no?" the assassin laughed, but turned on his heel, so that Kai was on his left and the advancing Conrart to his right. "Don't act in haste. I'm sure you all noticed that there were _two_ explosions, and not just one? Well, the first one was my associate setting the wine cellar aflame. Now, I've been here since the fires started, and not one servant or cook did I see pass. It's almost as if all the workers are trapped downstairs in the kitchens and the cellar. Slowly suffocating to death, inhaling smoke or just outright burning. I wonder if you two have the time to take me in _and_ attempt to save them all. But, if you decide to let me walk... you might have more time on your hands. The choice, after all, is completely yours. On your collective heads rests the fate of poor old innocent chef folk."

_Son of a bitch._

Conrart looked straight at Kai, and he knew what must be done.

"Let him pass," Kai said, and Conrart nodded. The assassin bowed, but turned to face Kai again, lifting his dagger at shoulder level and pointing it at his chest.

"Know that right now, I'm letting you live," he said, tilting his head slightly to the side, a maniacal grin on his face. "And I'll continue to do so until I know for sure that you remember me. It's not fair, killing you for something you don't even remember doing. Till we meet again, Captain. Dragonborn."

Growling, Kai turned on his heel at the same time as the assassin. They walked in completely opposite directions. The former legionnaire looked back over his shoulder at the assassin, who was waving back at him without so much as a glance. The Dragonborn was also hurrying up to join him.

Kai turned left and headed for the kitchens.

It felt like this was a twisted re-imagining of Helgen. _Fuck, even the Dragonborn's here. Now all we need is a big, black dragon and we can have a nice bloody reunion._

Kai covered his face with his tunic and kicked down all that remained of the door leading down to the kitchens and staff quarters.

"Wrong time, I know," Conrart said from behind him, also with his tunic held to his nose. The smoke was especially thick now that it had an outlet. "You know that guy?"

"Nope," Kai answered shortly. Conrart didn't ask anything more. Even if he did, this wasn't the time to dwell upon such things. "Ready?"

Upon receiving a nod from the Dragonborn, Kai disappeared into the billowing smoke.

* * *

**Firo**

When the first few drops of rain fell upon his head, Firo turned his face up to the sky. It was a strangely nostalgic feeling, being pelted on the face with raindrops. He vaguely remembered standing out in the rain with his open mouth aimed skywards to catch the falling droplets, back when he was but a lad growing up in the Volkihar castle.

There was no meaning to the gesture, Firo knew, but he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. The water felt cool against his flesh, but it had no taste. There was no feeling of... satisfaction when the droplets rolled down his dry throat. If anything, it felt like swallowing ash.

Firo closed his mouth. He had made his escape at the exact moment of the explosion. He hadn't meant to stay as long as he had, anyway. His only reasoning for even coming to this event was to cross paths with the fabled Dragonborn.

Said fabled hero, after herding the ball invitees out, had himself come outside and thrown his voice at the sky before sprinting straight back inside. Not long after that, black clouds had gathered on the Solitude skies, bringing with them the winds of Kyne herself. Before long, the pitter-patter of rain followed, gaining momentum with every passing second, much to the relief of the gathered crowds.

The vampire had retreated to a safe distance, away from the throngs of people. He wished to observe without being observed and the battlements of the Emperor's tower served this purpose greatly. With his enhanced vision, he had unrestricted access to all the goings-on down below. Even Fura escaping in bat form hadn't escaped him.

Firo wondered what she would report to his father. Something about his son turning tail and running at the climax of the battle, no doubt. Maybe she'd say how she single-handedly held the fort before an unforeseen complication had arrived and blew the place up. Not that it would be a falsified report, he mused. Even so, it was about time he had his allegiance known to the members of his court. They were already suspicious, and his apparent defection would be serve to keep them occupied and distracted while he made his moves.

"I know you're there," Firo finally called out, prompting a robed and hooded figure to step out of the shadows. It was raining cats and dogs by this point, and everything appeared white around Firo, yet he turned to face the new arrival.

"Do you know who I am?" the figure asked.

"I know you are like me," Firo answered, taking a couple of measured steps closer. "You also happen to be the High Queen's court wizard. I cannot claim to be aware of your name, sadly enough, though I am sure you will be kind enough to remedy that."

A chuckle. "My name is Sybille Stentor, though I am not sure what you are implying by saying that I am like you."

"How old are you, Sybille?"

"How crass of you, to ask a lady her age so bluntly. But fine. I'm fifty-three."

"And how long have you been fifty-three?"

A pause. "A while," Sybille said as she took a step closer to Firo. "I like to think I've aged well. I'm certainly wiser than I once was. And I know when one should speak... and when one should hold their tongue."

Smiling, Firo spread his arms wide and took a step back. "We are hardly in court, lady Stentor. There is no cause for misdirection of speech, is there?"

"In that case, I _demand_ to know why the Volkihar would take such a drastic step."

Hiking his shoulders, Firo said, "_That_ you must take up with Lord Harkon, I'm afraid. He wanted to make a statement, that nobody is safe. That the Volkihar was ready to spread their wings."

"Well, he succeeded, then."

"Not quite. The High Queen was supposed to be turned."

"By the Gods..." The Breton mage massaged her forehead. "Wait. Why are you telling me this? Aren't you part of the coven?"

"Harkon is my father, actually," Firo answered bemusedly with a tilt of his head. "Although let it be said that I do not share my father's vision for this world."

"And what vision would that be?"

The Nord paused and looked over his right shoulder at the Blue Palace. The rain had doused the flames, though smoke still poured from the many windows and even the main gates, even as the Dragonborn and some other person carried out a couple of unconscious people and lay them down on the ground. "Not for me to say." Firo looked back at Sybille. "Though in exchange, I can offer a solution."

"What?"

"Convince the High Queen to officially recognise the Dawnguard as an elite vampire hunting force and endorse them. Help them spread their influence throughout Skyrim. Their numbers will swell after this incident, but they cannot become an efficient force without formal support from the monarch."

"Won't that cause friction with the Thalmor?"

Firo clicked his tongue. "This is Skyrim, not Alinor."

Sybille thought this over for a while as Firo turned away, approaching the edge of the raised wall. A finger of lightning traced the night sky, lighting up his face, followed by the angry rumbling of thunder. _It doesn't look like there will be any respite from the storm tonight._

"I'll see what I can do," the court-vampire answered at length. "I let Torygg die. I shan't let anything of the sort happen to Elisif."

Firo nodded in approval. He had expected no less.

"Though if I may ask, what's _your_ agenda? You said your ambition didn't exactly line up with that of your father."

_Good question. What is my agenda?_

"Curiosity. These mortals, they intrigue me with their antics. I wish to study them and their motivations."

Sybille Stentor came up and stood next to him, joining him in observing the goings-on down by the Blue Palace.

"These mortals are fragile. Easily crushed. Easily divided," Sybille said. "Yet there is strength in them. But they do not realise this. Foolish."

"Yet you care for them."

Sybille nodded. "They grow on you. If given the chance. You wish to guide them, help them understand their potential."

Placing his hands atop the neighbouring merlons, Firo hoisted himself onto the crenellations. The view it offered was spectacular.

"I shall take into consideration what you said, Lady Stentor."

"I should hope so, for I shall not tolerate any more unprovoked attacks on Elisif. I have so _very_ many ways to deal with threats. Very few of them pleasant."

"Amusing," Firo smiled. Then he jumped off the tower.

In the morrow, he would approach the Dragonborn.

* * *

**Omiq**

"Something's burning, Ghorbash."

"Where there's smoke, there's bound to be fire."

Locking his hands behind his back, the Khajiit smirked as he turned away from the balcony to look at his friend. "How very perceptive of you, my friend. But in all seriousness, I think it's coming from the direction of the Blue Palace."

Ghorbash's hand stopped midway through bringing the glass of water to his lips. He silently stared at Omiq before sighing and taking a few long gulps. When he fished, he asked, "Are you worried?"

Omiq tilted his head to the side and looked back out at the city, letting the spray of rainwater moisten his face. "About the Captain, no. He's not one to die. Not from a fire at least. He lived through Helgen."

"Yeah. But at what cost?"

Omiq had no answer to that.

"I'm going down to the bed, Omiq," Ghorbash said after a while and drained his glass of water before placing it on the table. Having dinner on the patio had become a regular thing at Proudspire manor ever since the arrival of Reina.

"Not going to aid in the rescue efforts?"

The Orc grunted roughly as he rose from the chair. "I wouldn't want to rob Tulius and his men of the glory. They can have it for all I care."

The door leading downstairs from the patio was swung open and then slammed close a bit too harshly. Omiq sighed. Helgen was still a sore topic for the people involved, even now, two years later. Kai called it the _ghost of Helgen_. It wasn't far from the truth.

Granted, he and Ghorbash weren't at Helgen, but they felt the direct repercussions of the incident. _As did the entirety of Skyrim._

"When the Gods wage war, it's the poor mortals who suffer," Omiq muttered.

"Ohoho yes! I like that thought, yessir! Best way to make mortals suffer is still pulling out their entrails and playing skip rope with them! Or was it making flaming dogs rain down to the ground? It's all so confusing. Wouldn't you say?"

For a good long while, Omiq couldn't form a thought. His mind was completely blank. _Oh no_. Then he slowly, very slowly, started to turn back. _Please don't let it be him_.

"Long time no see, eh boyo? Miss me, did'ja?"

Omiq groaned. Standing across from him was a silver-haired old Imperial man, dressed in fine, courtly clothes. His cane he had tucked in the crook of his elbow and in his arms he carried what appeared to be a sleeping girl. Knowing the man's rather eccentric tastes in entertainment, Omiq wasn't very surprised.

"Mark," he said, acknowledging the man's presence.

"M'aiq," the Imperial replied with a nod in response.

Omiq swished his tail from one side to the other, amused. "Why are you carrying around a sleeping girl, Mark?"

"Long story, M'aiq. Main reason why I'm here. Mind if I keep the girl on the table?" Omiq nodded. "Thanks! I knew you'd be hospitable and welcoming."

Omiq watched as the girl's body floated down onto the table, the plates and glasses moving out of the way to make room for her. Marcantonio pulled out a seat and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and placing his cane on his lap.

"Ahhh! Carrying around a mortal is taxing on the back. I'm getting on in the years, M'aiq. So how've you been? Still as orange as ever, I see. I always said pink was more your colour."

Instead of replying, the Khajiit shuffled closer to the table to have a look at the girl. She was dressed in the garb of the bards over at the College. Yet, she had claw marks along her throat. Omiq reached out with a hand and brushed her brown hair away from her face, and frowned.

"I know this girl. We met in Riften some time ago. Chatted over a meal." _Then some mercenary looking guy came asking for her_. "What happened to her, Mark?"

Marcantonio flipped his hands. "Forsworn attacked trying to get Elisif to give them the Reach. Vampires attacked trying to turn Elisif. Then some crazy assassin blew the place up and a vampire threw her through the door of the Pelagius Wing, interrupted my dinner. Almost scratched her throat out, too."

"You saved her?"

"I stopped the bleeding. She'll live. Though curing her is up to you entirely."

Omiq looked up at Marcantonio. "She's been infected?"

"Yeap."

"So why don't you cure her?"

"Same reason you directly can't, old buddy old pal." The Imperial smirked impishly. "There are actions and there are reactions to said actions. We have limited agency to interfere in these affairs, you know. Every time we get involved and wave off the reactions, we create a ripple effect. Done enough times, the big guy can wake up. And that would be that."

Omiq nodded and took a seat across from Marcantonio. "It's a nice change, seeing you of all people make sense."

A grin. "I wasn't always insane, M'aiq."

"I don't go by that name anymore. It's Omiq now."

"Hmm. But you'll always be M'aiq to me, even if the others call you something else," the Imperial said. "Well, I'll be off now, then. Sam told me that some imbecile tore open a giant hole in the sky somewhere, which is now spitting out demons and the like. Exciting times, eh?"

"Well, your four-armed friend might get a bee in his bonnet about using that as a gateway. Like last time."

Marcantonio wagged his index finger at Omiq. "You know, that's actually a pretty good point. He and I never did get along much. Hmm. More reason to hurry up and leave." He rose to his feet. "'Twas nice meeting you again, M'a-Omiq. See, I almost tripped up. Hoho! Now you take care of the girl. And that precious hunter lad. He's interesting, mhmm."

With a muffled flash, the Imperial disappeared. Omiq sat there, stroking his whiskers for a long time. He then reached out and placed his hand on Casair's forehead.

Vampires. Forsworn. Assassins. The Dragonborn. The Guildmaster of the Thieves' Guild. And a certain hot-heated hunter.

_They are all converging, _he thought with a bitter smile.

Chaos wasn't too far away. The time to prepare was nigh.


End file.
